Drain the Glass
by IndianSummer
Summary: When Rory Gilmore’s broke, she’s desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it’s the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…
1. Crazy Ghosts

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Crazy Ghosts

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, and Corina. Don't own _Raspberry Rain_, nor Christine's faux last name. Err, Nabokov owns that. Nabokov owns my soul too… long story. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_.

Author's Note: To Joan, possibly the biggest Trory I know. And Chris, 'cuz, well, Chris is what makes the world go 'round… err, right? And Cathy, 'cuz her videos are bringing out my Trory side again, lol.

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We'll raise our toast to pleasures past / They came so quick and went so fast / Idle

boasts, crazy ghosts   
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Jordan Danvers glanced over at her roommate. The girl hadn't moved in the last eight hours, or at least not much. She'd changed out of her pajamas before crawling back into the security of her own bed, whimpering. Jordan sighed. "Rory."

Rory Gilmore turned her head slightly, meeting Jordan's gaze. She mumbled something, but Jordan couldn't understand what she had said.

"What?"

"Don't want to talk." Rory glanced past Jordan, at the wall behind her. Rory had perfected the art of not meeting a person's gaze years ago. And she'd managed to make it appear like she was staring into the person's eyes months ago.

Jordan, of course, knew her too well. "Rory…"

Rory groaned, bringing her eyes down to meet Jordan's worried gaze. "I'm fine, Jordan. Really. I just want to be left alone."

"You missed class," Jordan said, raising an eyebrow. "That's not a Rory Gilmore-ish thing to do."

"How do you know I missed class?" Rory asked.

"You're in my Creative Writing class, Rory. You weren't there. And considering you only sit two seats from me, I don't think I could've overlooked you."

Rory groaned. "Fine. I didn't go." She paused. "Still don't want to talk about it, though."

Jordan shrugged. "Fine. Your loss."

Flashback: 9 months before; October 2005; New Haven, CT

"I'm broke," Rory announced, plopping down on Jordan's bed.

Jordan glanced up from her magazine, tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. "What's new," she answered, somewhat sarcastically. "Rory, you say this every other week."

Rory groaned. "I mean it this time. I don't even have money for lunch."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

Rory nodded. "Yep. Buying those new books for Lit broke me. Do you want to see how much money I have?" she asked, starting to rant. She grabbed her wallet from her purse, unsnapped it, and held it upside down. Two quarters, a dime, and three pennies fell out. 63 cents.

"Um. Whoa. Okay, I'll pay for your lunch." Jordan paused. "I know where you could get a job," she said hesitantly.

"I'm not going to work at McDonald's or Dunkin Donuts, Jordan." Rory rolled her eyes. "Too many people skills needed for a job like that."

Jordan laughed. "You could never deal with that. I was thinking more along the lines of a nanny."

"Me? Taking care of kids?" Rory laughed. "Have you heard the sock puppet story?"

Jordan nodded. "Multiple times. And it seems to me that you're a natural with kids."

Rory paused. "I do need the money." She was considering this? She didn't mix well with kids. They'd probably end up dead when the day was done.

"The family's rich," Jordan hinted.

Looking after kids and getting paid a lot for it. Yeah, it was worth it. "How many kids? How old?" she asked hesitantly, still not completely sold on the idea.

"Two kids. Five and seven. Emilie and Mandy."

"How do you know them?"

"Family friends." Jordan shrugged. "Don't worry. They're sweet kids. Here's the number to call if you want to…" She handed Rory a business card and grabbed her bag, heading for class.

Sigh. "Thanks Jordan."

"Sir, there's someone on Line Two." The jumpy secretary said, popping her head into the office.

The blonde man glanced up, nodding. "Thank you, Joan." He watched as she disappeared into the hallway, frowning. She'd been there for almost three months, and she was still as tense as the first day.

Pressing the button for line two, he answered the phone. "Danvers and Associates."

"Danvers? Whoa. Um, okay," came a nervous female voice.

He smiled. "May I help you?"

"Um, yeah. Jordan. Jordan Danvers, I mean." The woman paused, and there was a muffled 'Are you a _Danvers _Danvers?" So this was a friend of Jordan's. Just great. So he should expect a maniacal caller.

"Ma'am?"

"Oh, yeah, right. Um, sorry. It's just… know what? Never mind. I'm calling because Jordan told me you were looking for a nanny."

His eyes widened. Leaving Emilie and Mandy with a friend of Jordan's didn't sound very safe.

"Sir, I know I may not have come across as… completely sane, but… I was surprised. And I'm good with kids." It was like she'd read his mind.

"And Jordan would trust you with Emilie and Mandy?" There had to be some sense of family loyalty, even if he didn't always agree with Jordan's choices.

"Yes. She's the one who told me about them."

"Okay then. You're hired. But the first few weeks… they're tough on the girls. So… could you stay in the house? It's just temporary, and it's close to Yale. Which is where I assume you're going if Jordan's with you right now."

"Yes. And I guess the staying there will be okay. For awhile."

"Good. The family chauffeur will pick you up at six this evening. Unless that's too soon for you."

Rory's eyes widened. "Um. Nope. Not at all."

"Good. Then it's settled. I won't be there when you get there, but Amelie and Corina should be there. They'll help you get settled."

"Um, okay. Thank you."

Even after Rory took a leisurely walk around campus, Jordan still wasn't back from class. Rory'd hoped to have a chance to ask Jordan a few questions she'd forgotten to ask Mr. Danvers, such as who Amelie and Corina were.

Rory sighed, glancing at her alarm clock. It was quarter past five. Exhaling, she threw a suitcase onto her bed, and randomly threw in a few pairs of jeans, shirts, pajamas, socks, and underwear. Couldn't forget underwear. She knew from experience forgetting underwear wasn't fun. She'd done that once at a sleepover at Lane's in junior high, and Mrs. Kim had made twenty dollars off of her. Apparently, it cost $20 for a pair of Hanes.

After running around hurriedly for other items, such as her toothbrush and cosmetics, Rory grabbed a protein bar from Jordan's desk, and scrolled a note to her roommate.

5:55. She hurried out of the dorm, dragging her heavy suitcase behind her. She'd started to over pack recently. She was becoming more like her mother. She sat down on the step in front of her dorm, and swore as she saw a black limousine come around the corner.

It stopped in front of her, and a man stepped out from the passenger's seat. "Hello, Ma'am," he started, his voice heavy with a French accent. "My name is Sinclair Rosemont. I'm an employee of the Danvers family." He paused long enough to take her suitcase from her. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it at the Danvers' residence."

Rory followed him to the limousine, and he opened a door in the middle. She hesitated, then sat down. He closed the door and she watched through the tinted windows as he brought her luggage to the back.

Not even her grandparents were this showy. It was now Rory realized how little she knew her roommate.

Mandy and Emilie looked as alike as night and day. Literally. Both had startling blue eyes, but that's where the resemblance stopped. Mandy, the older of the two, had dark brown hair and milky skin. She sat reading a newspaper, frowning.

Emilie, the five-year-old, jumped up when Rory entered the sitting room, her blonde tresses bouncing. She was more tan than her older sister, and seemingly much more good-natured. "Hi. You must be Rory," she greeted, bringing her index finger to her chest. "I'm Emilie Rose."

Mandy glanced up now, as if seeing Rory for the first time. "Did you know Dow dropped ninety-three points today?"

The girl was far too serious for her own good. Rory shook her head. "No, I didn't. I don't know much about the stock market though."

Mandy nodded. "I could've speculated that."

Speculate. Not guess, but speculate. Rory knew enough to know that speculation was a large part of the stock market.

"I'd be Normandy Annabel, by the way."

Normandy. So the family was definitely French. "I've always wanted to go there."

Stupid thing to say to a worldly seven-year-old. "I was born there," Mandy responded.

"Should I call you Mandy?"

She shook her head. "No. That's what my mother started calling me. The nickname's horrid, yet I can't seem to conquer it."

"Oh. Okay, Normandy." Rory smiled tentatively.

Rory was already settled in bed reading _Raspberry Rain_, by Christine Phalen, when someone knocked on the door of her new bedroom. Rory set down the bestseller, staring at the door. There was no way she was going to get out of this comfortable bed and open it. "Come in," she called.

A young blonde man, probably about her age, opened the door tentatively, peeking in. "Hello, Miss…" he trailed off.

"Gilmore. Lorelai, but you can call me Rory."

The man nodded. "Okay, Rory. Sinclair told me that you met the girls tonight."

Rory nodded. "Yes, Mr. Danvers." Upon the young man's laugh, Rory's expression grew confused. "What? Aren't you their father?"

He shook his head. "No on both accounts. I'm their brother, and Danvers is my mother's last name. My father's is DuGrey."

It sounded somewhat familiar, but Rory couldn't place it. "DuGrey," she said slowly, letting it roll over her tongue.

"Yes. Tristan. My mother was taken ill, and she and my father are at a hospital in Switzerland right now. I'm looking after my younger siblings, but I can't do it alone."

Rory stared at the man. Tristan DuGrey. Disheveled blonde hair, striking blue eyes. He looked familiar too. It annoyed her when she couldn't place someone.

Tristan DuGrey slipped into bed after speaking with the new nanny. It was odd. She seemed familiar to him, yet he couldn't place why. Perhaps he'd met her sometime during his slightly drunken high school days of junior year.

It would be plausible for him to not remember her if that were the case. Gilmore. So she was probably related to Richard Gilmore, a business partner of his grandfather's.

"What's wrong?" Amelie Rousseau asked sleepily, turning toward him.

Tristan smiled at his fiancée, shaking his head. "Nothing, Amelie. Go back to sleep. We have an early start in the morning." He watched as she followed his advice, resting her head on his chest, sighing contentedly.

"Night, Tris. I love you."

"I love you too, Amelie," he responded, kissing the top of her head. "Good night."

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We'll make our toast and drain the glass / We're know we're out of favour / We can't expect no saviour / We're looking to the future but we keep one eye on the past

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	2. Who'll Stop the Rain?

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Who'll Stop the Rain?

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Rory connects with Normandy and Emilie a bit, and talks with Amelie.

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Nor do I own Bruce Springsteen's _Who'll Stop the Rain?_ Don't own Orwell's _1984_. Don't own Bill Gates. Or Microsoft. Or Firestone. Which, by the way, I'm not including to stir up problems. It's just dialogue. Common dialogue. As in, I've heard people refer to "Firestone rollovers." Or _Unfaithful_. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Angeleyez, Chris, and Kait. 

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Long as I remember / The rain been falling down / Clouds of myst'ry pourin' / Confusion on the ground

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Rory's eyes widened as she glanced at Normandy, sitting in a leather recliner in the study. The seven-year-old seemed almost gothic, her long dark hair hanging over her shoulders as she read Orwell's _1984._

Rory frowned. "Your father lets you read this?"

Normandy glanced up. "My father isn't aware that my reading level is above the Berenstain Bears." Rory could tell she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Oh. Right. Well, what about your brother then?"

"My brother bought it for me."

"Oh." Rory frowned. What kind of role model would buy a book for his sister certain to give her nightmares? Rory herself had read it at nine, and she hadn't been able to sleep for a week. Of course, Kirk hadn't been much help, since he was in the middle of a "government cover-up" theory having to do with Roswell, New Mexico at the time. He'd been all too happy a few years later when the television show was picked up. That was irrelevant though. "And it doesn't… disturb you?" Rory asked.

Normandy turned her sapphire eyes up to Rory in a disbelieving gesture. "The world's not all hearts and flowers, Lorelai."

Rory nodded. "Oh. Right. Um… where's your brother? I need to speak with him."

"He and Amelie have already left."

Amelie. There was that name again. "Who is Amelie?"

"Amelie Rousseau. Tristan's fiancée. Her father owns Rousseau Publications, which is the number one publishing company right now… internationally." Normandy paused. "He's worth approximately $54.2 billion. Each of his children's another $30 billion."

Rory bit her lip. That was a lot of money, but she had no idea what it meant. Normandy's dark gaze seemed to read her mind.

"If a comparison would help, Bill Gates is worth approximately $40.9 billion."

The little girl knew too much for her own good. "Oh." She was still confused. "How could a publishing company take over Microsoft?"

Normandy sighed loudly, as if she didn't have the time to deal with such moronic questions. "It's a monopoly. Rousseau Publications bought out other publishers, like Penguin, Random House, even Oxford. When you buy out all the larger ones, a margin of their net worth and profits falls into your hands."

"Oh." Like she knew what that meant.

  
Normandy nodded, standing up. The girl barely came up to Rory's waist, yet Rory felt diminutive next to her. This was a good start.

"Corina has the day off," Emilie spoke up around 12:30. "She's our cook."

Right. Generally people ate lunch. That is, if you weren't a Gilmore and just ate whenever you felt like it. "Oh," Rory started, panicking. "I'm not much of a cook, but I can probably manage something. What would you like?"

Emilie shrugged, twirling a lock of her golden hair around her finger. "Peanut butter and jelly would be okay."

Rory smiled gratefully at the little girl, for choosing something she actually knew how to make. "And you, Normandy?" she asked hesitantly, wary of the answer.

Normandy met Rory's gaze defiantly. "I'll make myself a salad."

"Okay." At least she hadn't requested Chicken Corde Bleu or something equally atrocious.

She helped Emily down from her seat on the sofa, since Emilie's legs did not yet reach the floor. Normandy stood watching her sister, then slipped from the room. "Follow me to the kitchen," she directed.

Rory nodded. Right. Now she was following Normandy around, instead of taking care of her. 

Emilie took a delicate bite from her sandwich, her eyes trained on Rory. "This is good," she said between mouthfuls. "Normandy, you should try some."

Normandy stared at her little sister in indignation. "Peanut butter will end up clogging my arteries. Really, you shouldn't be eating it yourself, Emilie," she admonished.

Emilie shrugged. "It's good protein, right?"

"Yes," Normandy allowed.

"And you don't get enough protein. A little peanut butter isn't going to kill you." 

Rory watched this display in awe. Emilie was brilliant, and had an excellent vocabulary for a five year old. And Normandy, well, Normandy was a more severe portrayal of herself at seven.

Tristan DuGrey snuck a quick glance at Amelie Rousseau as her mother spoke. Amelie met his gaze quickly and smiled, before turning back to Julianna Averill-Rousseau.

"Roo-sew! Can you believe that, Amelie? They pronounced it _Roo-sew!_ As if Rousseau isn't a historical last name, which anyone who has taken a philosophy _or_ art class should know how to pronounce! And it was in public. I thought your father was going to-"

"Julianna," Tristan started, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure it will never happen again. Really, I doubt it was as obvious as you think it was. The woman sitting next to me didn't even notice." 

Julianna Averill-Rousseau was generally a composed woman, someone Amelie could look up to, but she had her moments. After all, she was human. Amelie nodded, trying to assist Tristan and her mother. "Yes, Mother, I'm sure it wasn't. Really, you should be preparing for tonight's dinner. Do you need any help?"

Julianna shook her head, standing up. "No. Between myself and Rosaline, it should be fine. Plus, you and Tristan should be getting back. It's almost five."

Tristan started, not realizing it was that late. "We really should. I promised Ms. Gilmore that we'd be home by seven."

"Ms. Gilmore?" Julianna paused in the doorway. "I don't believe I've met her."

"She's Mandy and Emilie's new nanny. A friend of Jordan's."

Julianna nodded. "And Tristan?"

"Yes?"

"I'd give her the title of governess. It's a bit more… respectable, to start with. Plus, the girls are of an age where a governess is more expected. Not to mention that a governess is paid slightly better, which any scholar would appreciate." She winked at Tristan. "Just a thought, of course."

"Thank you, Julianna."

"It's 7:05."

Rory glanced at Normandy. "It is."

"My brother said he'd be home at seven."

"He's only a few minutes late, Normandy. I wouldn't worry about it."

"I'm not worried. It's just insolent. When you've made a schedule, you must abide by it. Otherwise, you're giving yourself a bad image. You may as well admit to being a Firestone, given their reputation for rollovers as of late."

Rory frowned. She didn't quite see the connection, but she was sure Normandy was looking at the issue a little deeper than herself. "Right." 

Normandy froze, seeming to become more alert. "They're home," she said quietly.

"How do you know?" Was the girl psychic or something? _The Ring_ came to Rory's mind. Normandy did have similarities to Samara.

"The chimes. Three rooms over. I hear them." 

Rory nodded. Right. That would always work too. Generally, chimes did symbolize the opening of a door. But God, the girl had good hearing.

Rory took an instant liking to Tristan's fiancée upon meeting her. Amelie wasn't a classic beauty, at least not in the way much of Hartford's upper class defined beauty. Her hair was a wavy brown, and her eyes were a pale green. Her skin seemed naturally tan, not in the 'I-spent-all-of-yesterday-in-a-tanning-salon" way.

Her personality was just as down-to-earth. She greeted Rory with a smile. "I'm Amelie. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Gilmore."

Rory met her smile. "You can call me Rory. It's nice to meet you too, Amelie. I take it you're the fiancée."

"Yes." Amelie cuddled against Tristan, who'd stood silently until now.

"I'm sorry we were late, Ms. Gilmore. We lost track of time with Amelie's mother."

"It's no problem. The girls were wonderful. And you can call me Rory, too."

Tristan nodded, running a hand threw his hair. "I hope you don't find me rude or anything, but I'm starving… I'm going to go to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. Would you like something? Amelie?"

Rory shook her head, and Amelie did the same. Tristan nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Amelie smiled at Normandy. "How was your day, Normandy?" she asked sweetly.

Normandy shrugged. "Normal. Or as normal as one can be in a rapacious world."

"Rapacious?"

"Word of the day on thesaurus.com. Means avaricious. Or greedy. Take your pick." Normandy paused. "Started _1984_. Decent enough, so far. Like Tristan said it would be. A bit on the paranoid side for my tastes, but I'm insubstantial in the macrocosm that is the world."

Amelie laughed. "You know, that sentence is too advanced, even for you. How long have you been waiting to say it?"

"Macrocosm? I read it in the newspaper. Had to look it up. Then I felt like a fool when I noticed it was pretty much the antonym of microcosm." Normandy sighed. "Amelie, I've talked more today than I normally do in a week. I think I'm just going to put myself to bed." She slipped from the chair, feigning a yawn. "'Night."

"Good night," Amelie responded, still smiling. Rory echoed her. Amelie turned to Rory once Normandy had left the room. "Where's Emilie?"

"In the playroom. I was told she could stay up until eight on Saturdays."

  
Amelie nodded. "That's right." She stared at Rory. "You know, you don't have to second guess your actions, especially to me. Or Tristan. You don't work for either of us."

"I don't?" Rory'd thought she worked for Tristan. This family was utterly confusing. Then again, both the girls were Danvers.

"No, you don't. You work for Mrs. Ashford. She's Tristan's mother, by the way. Tristan's just… stand-in Dad." Amelie shrugged. "Mr. Ashford is a kind of crummy parent, if you know what I mean."

Rory did. "And Mrs. Ashford?" she asked, hoping she wasn't being too candid.

Amelie smiled. "Mrs. Ashford is quite the woman. She's been sick for a while though. It's gotten worse lately. Taken a real toll on Normandy."

Ah, Normandy. "Normandy's not exactly… the most jovial child."

"No, she's not." Amelie shook her head. "Actually, today's the happiest I've seen her in almost two years."

"Seriously?" If this was Normandy happy, Rory didn't want to see her sad. 

"Yeah. She even admitted it herself. She was really talkative."

Rory sat down on a nearby sofa. "I don't mean to pry, but the whole last name issue's confusing me. Danvers, Ashford, DuGrey…"

Amelie nodded, sitting down as well. "Jordan and Tristan are twins, but Mrs. Ashford, whose maiden name is Danvers, had Tristan keep his father's last name, so he could inherit DuGrey Industries. Jordan, being female, was to keep her mother's last name. Mrs. Ashford is quite the feminist. But when she fell in love with Mr. Ashford… well, he wouldn't marry her unless she took his last name because of image and everything. So she did, but she made him promise their children would keep her last name. He didn't argue, because Danvers and Associates is more profitable than the Ashford Designer's Wear line."

"Geez. That's complicated enough to be it's own mini-soap."

"Yeah. Pretty much." Amelie laughed, standing up. "I should go find Tristan."

"What did you talk about with the governess?" Tristan asked, wrapping an arm casually around Amelie's shoulders.

Amelie held up the remote to change the channel. "Nothing much. Girl stuff. Have you talked to her yet?"

"Only a little last night."

"She's pretty smart. I think you'd get along well with her."

"If she managed to deal with Normandy for a whole day, I'm sure I would." Tristan paused. "I talked to Normandy while you were talking to Ms. Gilmore."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Normandy said she'd had to explain the stock market to Rory." Tristan raised an eyebrow as _Unfaithful_ appeared on the television screen. "Please tell me we aren't watching this."

Amelie snickered. "You're the only male I know who'd turn down watching a movie with his fiancée where a woman has nude scenes and sex against a wall."

Tristan smiled. "I have you, Amelie. I'd rather watch you than some movie." He kissed her forehead.

"Tris?"

"Mmm?"

"You are aware this isn't going anywhere, right?"

Tristan pulled back, rolling his eyes. "No sex until marriage. Got it. And I appreciate it. But I'd still like to kiss you, if I may."

"You may," Amelie responded. She smiled as Tristan's lips met hers.

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Good men through the ages / They try to find the sun / But I wonder, still I wonder / Who'll stop the rain

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	3. Typical Day

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Typical Day

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: When there's a leak in the Danvers household, Rory has to go out for breakfast… with Tristan

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Nor do I own John Mayer's _Typical Day_. Or Chris' _Raspberry Rain._ Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Joan, who beta'd this for me with no advance warning. To Jess for her lovely review. To Loz and Lola.

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Rise and shine give a stretch and wipe the dreams from my eyes / Close your eyes and imagine me on a typical day / Well I sit back and just close my eyes and I drift away  
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"Rory, the phone's for you." Rory glanced toward the doorway of her room, where Emilie stood holding a phone. Rory went to get up from her bed, but Emilie stopped her. "There's an extension by the nightstand."

Rory nodded, picking up the extension. "Hello?" she said, as Emilie walked away.

"Hey, Rory. It's Jordan."

Rory smiled. "Oh, hi Jordan."

"What do you think of my sisters?"

Rory sighed, lying down. "Normandy's a piece of work," she responded slowly. "Hey, Jordan?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you come right out and tell me they were your sisters?"

"That would've been no fun." Jordan laughed. "Besides, you probably wouldn't have believed it, after meeting Normandy and Emilie."

"Well, you're a healthy medium between the two," Rory replied, grinning. "Emilie's such a sweet kid."

"And Normandy's a holy terror."

"No, not really. She's definitely a bit more of a challenge, but she's well behaved."

"And smart," Jordan added.

"Ridiculously smart." Rory sighed, running a hand through her hair. "The house is huge."

"Have you gotten lost yet?"

"No. I've had Normandy as a tour guide."

"Ah. Good choice. She probably knows the house better than Tristan. Or Amelie."

"I talked to Amelie earlier. She seems nice."

"Oh, she is." Jordan paused. "You know, I never would've thought Tristan would end up with someone like Amelie, though. For that reason."

"That she's nice?" Rory asked, confused. "From what I've seen of Tristan, he's nice too."

Jordan chuckled. "I guess he wasn't the most… honorable person in high school, though. He had the reputation of a player."

Blonde hair, blue eyes. An easy smirk. Rory could see it. "Yeah?"

"Yep. Apparently he only had one real girlfriend throughout high school. And she turned out to be a bit of a sleaze herself."

"Did you know her?"

"No. I went to high school in Massachusetts. That's where my dad lives. I know this because Tristan told me they broke up after she locked herself in a bathroom with some random guy."

"That's always good," Rory said sarcastically, shifting to her side.

"But, of course, he got over her quickly." Jordan sighed. "I guess he really was a player."

"I knew a few guys like that growing up," Rory said casually.

"Err. It's nine, Rory. Ben's coming over in a few minutes, so I should probably go."

"To stay?"

"Yeah, most likely."

Rory wrinkled her nose. "I didn't really need to know that."

Jordan paused. "You asked…"

"Yeah, but you should've known that I'd only want an answer if the answer was no, because now I'll have to worry about you guys getting romantic on my bed."

"That was only once."

"Hey! What?" Rory grimaced. Gross.

Jordan laughed. "Joking, Rory. I have my own bed, remember? And seriously, you worry too much. Just read that book I lent you."

Rory sighed, picking up _Raspberry Rain_. "The hero in it kind of reminds me of my ex."

"Why's that?"

"He has the same name. His physical appearance is about the same. You know, just all around."

"Creepy."

"Yeah." Rory sighed. "I'll let you go now."

"Okay. Bye. 'Night."

"'Night, Jordan." Rory hung up the phone, turning back to her story. Why didn't she meet a handsome, helpful guy when something went wrong in her life? Why was reality so tedious compared to a good novel?

Rory was sitting in the dining room eating breakfast the next morning when Amelie greeted her.

"Hey," she chirped, sitting down next to Rory and grabbing an orange from the bowl in the center of the table.

"Hey," Rory echoed, much more drowsily. College hadn't helped her become more of a morning person.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm driving the girls to their fraternal grandparents' house. They usually spend their Sundays there," Amelie said, peeling her orange.

"Oh. Okay. Is it out of your way, though? Because I could take them-"

Amelie shook her head. "No. They live down the street from my sister's. I usually just visit her after I drop off the girls."

"Oh. Sure. Should I have a phone number or anything?"

"There should be a list on the desk in your room. It's on that." Amelie paused. "Tristan's not a morning person, so he probably won't roll out of bed until after one. But Corina comes in at eleven."

"The cook, right?"

"Yes. She's about thirty, dark hair, dark eyes."

"Okay. Thanks Amelie."

"No problem." She split off a piece of the orange, chewing it unhurriedly.

At quarter of eleven, Corina arrived. Amelie's description of the woman had done her no justice. Corina's hair was a dark brown, so close to being black it actually appeared blue under light. Her eyes were a warm chocolate, and she smiled easily at Rory. "Hello."

"Hi. I'm Rory Gilmore. Normandy and Emilie's new nanny."

Corina surveyed Rory carefully now, and after a long moment, the smile reappeared. "What do you think of Normandy?"

Well, wasn't that the question of the week. "She's a very bright little girl," Rory started. "A bit introverted, but I'm not one to talk."

"She's like her old babysitter."

"Who was that?"

"Until about a year ago. Paris Gellar. Brilliant girl. It was a shame she didn't get into Harvard."

"She ended up going to Yale. I think Yale's at least Harvard's equivalent, if not better."

"So you're a Bulldog?" Corina asked.

"Well, I don't actually participate in any sports. Me and balls don't exactly mix very well." Rory stopped to ponder this for a moment. "But in the school spirit-y sense, yes."

Corina laughed, walking into the kitchen. "Not the athletic type? You'll have trouble keeping up with Emilie, then."

"What are you reading?"

Rory jumped from the recliner at the deep male voice. She whipped around to see Tristan DuGrey standing in the door, smirking. "Oh, um, _Raspberry Rain_."

"Oh, I don't do romance novels," Tristan replied offhandedly, then froze.

"Yet you knew what this specific title was about?"

"Amelie's father's company published it," he responded glibly.

"I'm offended. Do you really think I'd believe that you know what every single book your fiancée's father's company publishes is about?"

"No?" Tristan sat down in another recliner, smiling. "You caught me. I've read it. Amelie has a copy, and when I'm bored, I'm known for reading anything I can get my hands on."

"Out loud? Because it would be really fun if you started reading a dysentery medicine label out loud or something?" Rory giggled.

Tristan shook his head. "Um, no." He paused. "Amelie's mother was talking about promoting you to governess, because of the girls' ages."

Rory frowned. "What's that mean?"

"Well, nothing really. It's just a more acceptable label, you know? And it pays a little better…" Tristan let his words trail off, watching Rory closely.

Rory shrugged. "Well, sure. I could-"

"Master DuGrey!" There was a shriek from the kitchen, and a second later Corina came running out. "There's a water leak, sir. It's not good."

Tristan groaned, grabbing his cell phone. "I'll call a plumber, Corina. You can have the day off."

"Master DuGrey…" Corina hedged tentatively.

"Yes?" Tristan asked, dialing 411.

"I need the day's pay, sir. My son needs new clothing."

"I'll pay you Corina. I'll even give you a tip for having to put up with a leak, okay?"

"Thank you, Master DuGrey." Corina flashed Rory a smile, then disappeared into the hallway.

Almost two hours later, the blonde man reappeared, after having locked himself in the study, talking to various plumbers. "No one can get out here today. I guess there was a water leak or something in a hotel."

"Oh."

Tristan shrugged. "Puts a crimp in my day though. The leak's not that bad, but since I gave Corina the day off…"

Rory tried not to roll her eyes. So he was the stereotypical rich boy after all. "You don't know how to cook?"

His answer surprised her. "I do. Almost anything… just not breakfast."

"You hadn't eaten?" Rory asked. 

"Nope."

"I'd offer to make you something, but I really can't cook. Our stove… well, my mom can't cook either. It was another storage place. One time, when my father visited, he hid the jar of hot chocolate mix from me and my mom in the stove. About a year later, my mom, for some unknown reason, actually turned on the stove. Doesn't taste as good burnt." Rory flushed, realizing her employer probably didn't need to know any of this.

"Oh." Tristan paused. "Did you eat?"

"I had a cup of coffee and a few orange slices."

"Huh. Only Amelie can sustain herself on that. You're coming with me."

Rory cast her curious gaze toward him. "I am? And where?"

"To get breakfast. Or lunch, because that's what they're probably serving at this point."

"Oh. I don't have any money to-"

"I'll pay. Think of it as a compensation for putting up with a Danvers household problem."

"Well, on that note." Rory grinned. "Let me just grab my coat."

There was something oddly unnerving about breakfast with your employer. It seemed so unprofessional, especially when the aforementioned employer was an attractive man her age. Rory paused. Since when had she found Tristan DuGrey attractive?

She was pulled out of her thoughts by an awkward lull in the conversation, and she realized Tristan must've asked her a question. He was looking at her expectantly, with a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Huh?"

Tristan smiled, then cleared his throat. "I asked if you'd like another coffee. You seem to have inhaled yours," he said, gesturing toward her cup.

"Oh!" She nodded, offering a small smile. "My mother got me really addicted to coffee."

"You seem really close to your mother," Tristan offered, taking her cup.

"Yeah. My mother's even more of a coffee addict than I am. She seriously considered getting a coffee IV once."

Tristan laughed. "I'm sure her doctors would've loved that," he said, standing up.

Rory watched as Tristan strode to the counter in a few easy steps, holding out her coffee cup to the server. She surveyed the man critically, trying to find a flaw, so that she wouldn't have to admit he was worth looking at.

He was easily six feet tall, with a sinewy frame, thin but muscular. His skin was tan and healthy, which was more than she could say for most college boys. What had drawn Rory wasn't his body, or his angel like golden hair, but his eyes. His eyes were such a piercing blue, that when the boy met her gaze, she felt like he could read her mind. Rory froze again, bringing her hands to cover her face in an exasperated gesture. This was not good. If this continued, she'd end up with a crush on her employer. 

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To a place that's in my mind / I read a book or I watch TV. / It helps me to forget about all the little things that I need  
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	4. In My Life

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: In My Life.

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Jordan visits… a run in with friends… a very chaotic world.

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Nor do I own The Beatles' _In My Life_. Or Georgiou Studio. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Loz and Joan, for their last minute reviews. 50 reviews in three chapters. I love you guys.

Feedback is always appreciated. You guys know me well enough to know I'd never hold back a chapter over it… err, with the exception of Loz and Joan, lol, but it does make an author more enthused. Plus, I'm the kind of person who will comment on good feedback in an author's note, maybe pimp a fic.

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There are places I'll remember / All my life though some have changed / Some forever not for better / Some have gone and some remain

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Jordan Danvers slipped from her bed the next morning, not bothering to wake her sleeping boyfriend. After taking a quick shower, she threw on her jeans and a white ribbed sweater, letting her hair dry naturally.

Grabbing her car keys, she slipped from the dorm, into the early morning. The chill of a New England fall was comforting to Jordan, seeing as she'd always loved this weather.

She'd promised Amelie she'd pick up her sisters, since Amelie was going away with her sister for a few days.

Starting her car, Jordan glanced back to the dorm, where the sun was just visible over the roof. It was barely six, and it didn't take much brainpower to know that almost everyone in the dorm was asleep. She shrugged, pulling out of the parking lot. She could probably pick up her sisters and be back by the time Ben woke up.

Daniel and Rebecca Ashford were not the stereotypical grandparents. Normandy sat on the stairs, glancing down at the elderly couple. Daniel was a big man, probably well over six feet tall. He wasn't overweight, but his frame certainly wasn't lanky. He had an authoritarian air about him, and Normandy was sure that was why he'd closed so many business deals.

Rebecca, on the other hand, was a petite woman; she barely came up to her husband's chest. She'd aged gracefully, and her hair hadn't turned that shade of gray associated with old age, rather, a white. It was fortunate for the woman, whose hair, Normandy had learned, had been a white blonde anyway. She didn't possess her husband's assertive air, yet she wasn't friendly either.

Normandy no longer held the same hopes as Emilie when it came to the couple. She'd abandoned them when she was young, probably three or four. She'd realized they'd never be the grandparents a child wanted, that Rebecca was more likely to cook her own meal than knit her granddaughters' mittens or rock them in a rocking chair, that Daniel's only communication with the girls would be his discussions about business.

Emilie, however, was obviously still hoping for a change in her grandparents' behavior. Normandy watched her younger sister, sitting on the floor across from the elder Ashfords' straight backed chairs, stumbling through a passage in The Aeneid, frantically looking up every few words, hoping for a smile or a nod from her grandparents, any gesture of interest. 

Normandy sighed. It was oddly symbolic, she realized, that Emilie be sitting on the floor. Her grandparents had put themselves on a pedestal, and even family was looked down upon. It was almost embarrassing to watch Emilie trying to please them.

It was a relief when Jordan walked in, dressed casually and a smile on her face. Except Normandy knew what was coming.

"Miss Danvers," Rebecca addressed Jordan formally, "Haven't we spoken about the dress code for this house?"

Jordan smiled tightly, nodding. "Yes, but personally I find the idea of having a dress code within one's home absurd." She paused. "I'm here to pick up my sisters, not get critiqued by a woman who has no sense of style herself," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at Rebecca's dress.

Normandy would've smiled, but she didn't want to ruin her two-year streak. It was nice to see Jordan upset Mrs. Rebecca Ashford. And she could. Jordan and Rebecca weren't related, so Jordan owed her no familial courtesy.

Rebecca glared at the blonde girl. "Just like your mother," she muttered, storming out of the room.

Jordan rolled her eyes, glancing up the stairs. "Mandy, if you spend any more time here, you'll end up even more sordid than usual. Where's Emilie?"

Normandy gestured toward the sitting room, but didn't bother to stand. It would take another half hour for Jordan and Rebecca to finish exchanging insults anyway.

Rory's day brightened when Jordan entered the Danvers' drawing room, complaining about the grandeur of the house. "Seriously, I always feel like I'm going to break something the second I-"

"Jor!" She waved to her roommate, gesturing for her to sit down on the couch. "I was just watching a movie," she added, nodding to the television.

Jordan nodded, plopping down next to Rory. "What movie?"

"Not sure." Rory paused. "Where'd Ben go this morning?"

"To bed. He's still asleep, probably." Jordan shrugged.

Rory raised her eyebrows. "You left him there?"

"Yeah."

"Did you leave a note?"

Jordan rolled her eyes. "You sound like my mother," she teased. "No, I didn't. I wasn't planning on actually coming in here when I left."

Rory laughed. "Are you going to stay for a while?"

"Yeah. I wanted to talk to Tristan."

"According to Amelie, he's not much of a morning person," Rory pointed out. "And it's only 10:30."

Jordan shrugged. "Then you'll have to entertain me until he wakes up," she said, pointing to the remote. "Lets see what's on."

Running a hand through his disheveled hair and squinting through tired eyes, Tristan almost fell down the stairs after he awoke around 1:00.

Entering the drawing room, he was greeted with a feminine laugh, and he peered at Rory Gilmore. "What?" he asked, confused.

Jordan raised an eyebrow and cast a disdainful look at him, and Tristan became even more perplexed. "Nice choice," Jordan said lightheartedly, looking him up and down.

"I'm in the comfort and safety of my own home. I can dress however I damn well want," he responded, grinning. Mismatched socks, one plain, navy blue one, the other a red and green checkered one Emilie had given him last Christmas. Tattered gray track sweatpants from Rawley Military School for Boys, ripped in the knees. A white T-shirt, reading "I'm with stupid," also left over from high school. He spun around to amuse his sister and her friend. "What? You don't think this could be the next fashion fad?" he asked, feigning hurt, in a surprisingly good imitation of the gay fashion designer at the Georgiou Studio in Hartford.

Jordan rolled her eyes, glancing back at Rory. "See? This is cheese? That's all he is. A big, horrible joker."

Rory laughed. "And to answer your question, Tristan… No. I believe the only way that an outfit like that would become popular would be if our next president were an ape or something. The animal, not just someone who resembles one. Although if someone resembled an ape, then maybe-"

"Rory!" Jordan interrupted the brunette, grinning. Turning back to her brother, she asked, "Have you noticed how talkative this one is yet?"

Tristan nodded. "Yep."

Rory flushed, glancing down at her shoes. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I get carried away and, well…" She trailed off.

Tristan smiled, shaking his head. "Don't be. At least what you say is interesting. It's better than listening to Jordan drone on about her newest boyfriend, or lipstick, or-"

"Hey!" Jordan cried indignantly, hitting Tristan's shoulder in jest. "I resent that."

"Tristan," Emilie shouted, running into the room. She threw her arms around her half-brother.

Tristan grinned, effortlessly lifting the five year old off the ground. "Hey, Emilie," he said. "Miss me?"

"Yes." She kissed Tristan's cheek, then pulled back and pouted. "Amelie was 'sposed to pick us up."

Rory smiled at how the girl morphed the word supposed, her speech skills not completely formed. 

"Amelie's going away with her sister, remember?" Tristan responded, setting his sister on the floor carefully. She clung to his legs, but he didn't try to shrug her off. Amelie was lucky, Rory realized. Tristan would make a wonderful father.

And their children would definitely be gorgeous, Rory decided. Whether they received Tristan's golden hair or Amelie's chestnut, and Tristan's blue eyes or Amelie's green, they'd be striking. How could they not with a father that looked like Tristan?

Rory blushed again, realizing she was letting her mind drift into dangerous territory. Tristan was her employer, and she was pretty sure that she and Amelie would become friends.

Her thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by Jordan. "Is that the right time?" she asked, pointing to the VCR clock. Tristan glanced at his watch and nodded. "Oh geez. Ben's going to be awake. I've gotta go," she explained hurriedly.

Rory and Tristan both watched Jordan scurry off in amusement; seeing as it was nearing 3:00, Jordan should've realized hours ago that Ben would be awake. 

Emilie followed Jordan out of the room to say goodbye, and Tristan sat next to Rory on the couch. Elbows on his knees, he held his head up with his hands. "I don't like that guy," he confided in Rory.

Rory frowned. "Why not?" From what she'd seen of Ben, he was a pretty decent person. He could be rather dim-witted at times, and loud, but most of the time, he was a polite, caring guy. 

"He's not good enough for Jordan," Tristan responded simply, as if the answer were obvious. And Rory supposed, coming from Jordan's brother, it was.

"Oh."

Half an hour later, Normandy sat down delicately in a recliner, yet managed to look reserved, perching on the edge so she was sitting straight. "I was informed today through an email from Delores Nevins that the chorus performance is tomorrow."

Tristan frowned. "Who has an elementary school concert on a Monday."

"Apparently the ninnies running Chilton Elementary." Rory's head jerked up at the mention of Chilton. Normandy raised her eyebrows, meeting Tristan's gaze. "To make a long story short, Emilie and I both need new gowns."

Tristan sighed. "Fine. Okay. Give us half an hour, and we'll bring you shopping."

Normandy disappeared, content with the answer. It was Rory's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Us?"

Tristan nodded. "Yes. You're coming with us. You are being paid to watch the girls, and I wouldn't know where to start to pick out two little girls' dresses." He paused. "I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm thinking I'd get thrown out of the store dressed like this," he said, glancing at his still pajama-adorned body.

Rory had never known it was possible to feel underdressed just going shopping. She glanced around, noticing that almost all the women in the store were in dresses or skirts, and at the most casual, pant suits. She glanced at her own jeans and sweatshirt, and shook her head. So this is how the other world lived. It was like being a celebrity. Can't leave the house without an evening gown in case paparazzi finds you.

Tristan was wearing a suit, and when they were leaving, she figured it was how he dressed normally. She glowered at his profile now. It would've been nice of him to warn her.

Emilie had already pointed out six or seven different dresses she liked, and she, Rory, and Tristan had all agreed on a light blue one. Normandy, however, wasn't nearly as enthusiastic. She looked at each dress noncommittally, for such a length of time that Tristan grabbed a random dress and held it up for his sister to look at. "How about this one?"

Normandy observed it for a moment, before announcing, "No."

"Why not?" Tristan asked, clearly exasperated.

Normandy pointed to the seam. "See that? The stitching is horrible. It's actually visible, which means it will probably fall apart or fray within the month."

"But you only need to wear it for a night."

Normandy glanced at the price tag. "Are you suggesting I spend $400 on a poorly made gown that will fall apart momentarily?"

Rory's eyes widened at the price tag. Hiding her surprise, she quickly grabbed another from the rack. "What about this one?"

"No." Normandy paused, pulling out one next to the dress Rory was putting back. "This will do," she said, barely glancing at the dress.

Rory stared at it. It was a simple, long, black gown, and she supposed it would suit Normandy perfectly. It was depressing in appearance.

"Fine," Tristan answered quickly, not even looking at it. "Lets get out of here."

Walking back to his car, Tristan glanced at the girls' governess. He'd bought everyone ice cream cones at a nearby _Friendly's_, and Rory was currently trying to keep it from running down the cone.

It was obvious, although she was of the Hartford Gilmore line, she hadn't been raised in the world of high society. She looked carefree- not to the extent of being naïve- in her sweatshirt and jeans. Even in such casual clothes, Rory Gilmore possessed the same natural beauty as Amelie, which was evident considering the girl wasn't wearing even a speck of makeup. Her eyes were a bright, friendly blue, and even walking out of one of Hartford's most formal stores, she still looked approachable. She wiped ice cream from her face, glancing at Tristan. "What?"

"Nothing," he answered, glancing away. He was not comparing a member of the household staff to his gorgeous fiancée. That would be ridiculous.

"Rory!" Rory whirled around at the familiar voice, as did Tristan. He frowned as Madeline Lynn and Louise Grant ran over, confused. How did his old schoolmates know Rory Gilmore?

Rory waved to the two. "Hi."

The two girls caught up to Rory and Tristan, and the four stood there awkwardly for a moment, Normandy and Emilie all but forgotten for the moment. Madeline bit her lip, and glanced at Louise, indecisive. The girl never had been able to make a decision herself, afraid of offending somebody. Louise's gaze, however, was set on Tristan. Madeline gave Rory a quick hug, glancing back to see if her friendliness to Rory had angered Louise, like it may have in high school.

Louise's only response, however, was two words. "Tristan DuGrey," she said, almost awestruck, staring at the blonde boy. "Well, I'll be." She looked him over appreciatively, her friendly gaze from a moment ago suddenly transformed into sultry bedroom eyes. "You look nice," she said, placing a hand on his chest.

Rory glanced back at Normandy and Emilie, knowing full well that Louise may not stop there. "He's also engaged," she spoke up, hoping Louise wouldn't do anything that would freak out the girls.

Louise turned to Rory in surprise, raising a perfect eyebrow. "Well, I'll be," she repeated, shaking her head. "Never would've thought…"

Rory was confused, and then she realized that Jordan had said Tristan was a player. Louise must've known him from those days. Hell, they'd probably been sex buddies. "Riiight." She'd meant to drag it out, have it sound sarcastic.

Madeline glanced from Louise, to Tristan, to Rory, confused. "Um, okay." Turning her attention to Rory, she asked, "Have you spoken to Paris lately?"

Rory shook her head. "The last time I talked to her was almost a month ago."

"Oh. Well, you read newspapers, right?"

"Yes." Rory shot Madeline a questioning glance.

"So you're going to the funeral?"

"What!" It wasn't a question, more of a startled expletive. 

Tristan suddenly spoke up, realizing what Rory was thinking. "Paris' mother died in a plane crash three days ago. The funeral's Tuesday."

"Oh." Rory paused. "Wait, you know Paris! Right. Corina, I think, mentioned it to me."

"We went to school together."

"Amnesia much, Rory?" Louise teased, raising an eyebrow.

She didn't even glance at Louise. She stared at Tristan, perplexed. "Wait! No. Are you confused?"

"Um. No. At least I don't think so."

"But I went to school with Paris."

Louise rolled her eyes. "Are you guys serious?"

Both Rory and Tristan turned to the blonde. "About?" they cued, speaking simultaneously.

"Rory. Tristan. You guys had classes together. Remember the English project?" Louise paused, glancing from one to the other. Both held blank expressions. "The play?" Still nothing. "_Romeo and Juliet_. It was supposed to go on that night that Tristan broke into the safe."

Both Rory and Tristan froze, letting a memory flow back into their heads.

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"I got in some trouble." Tristan wasn't meeting her gaze, and it worried Rory. She and the boy had never gotten along very well, but she didn't like the sound of this.

"Trouble involving…" Rory asked hesitantly, not sure she wanted to know.

"Involving Duncan and Bowman, and Bowman's dad's safe." Tristan finally met her gaze as he said the last few words.

Rory felt like her stomach had dropped. Why would somebody like Tristan do that? "Oh no," was all she could muster. 

"I mean, Bowman had a key. It was supposed to be no big deal. And then the crazy silent alarm kicked in." Tristan's words almost sounded like an explanation.

"You broke into Bowman's dad's safe?" Rory was stunned. Tristan had money. He didn't need money in that safe, nor anything else he could've found in there. It's not like the safe contained the Hope Diamond or anything someone would want… at least she figured it didn't.

"Yes," Tristan answered simply.

Rory started to shake her head, but caught herself. "Stupid."

Tristan hesitated. "Yes."

Even if she hadn't always gotten along with Tristan, she didn't hate him. She didn't think he actually deserved this. "Well, okay, you can apologize and you can put back the money and you can explain that, I don't know, you were going through something." She looked up hopefully, although she knew this probably wouldn't work.

The corner of his mouth curved up a bit, so it resembled a smirk. "I was. I was going through his safe."

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Tristan smirked. "Look how much Mary's changed."

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All these places have their moments / With lovers and friends I still can recall / Some are dead and some are living / In my life I've loved them all

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	5. Gloomy Sunday

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Gloomy Sunday

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Reactions… concerts… funerals

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Nor do I own Heather Nova's _Gloomy Sunday_. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Joan. Just 'cuz.

Feedback is always appreciated. You guys know me well enough to know I'd never hold back a chapter over it… err, with the exception of Loz and Joan, lol, but it does make an author more enthused. Plus, I'm the kind of person who will comment on good feedback in an author's note, maybe pimp a fic.

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Dreaming, I was only dreaming / I wake and I find you asleep / In the deep of my heart here  


Rory stood wide eyed in the parking lot. She didn't think her feet would work if she tried to move them. Tristan DuGrey? This wasn't right; it couldn't be right.

Tristan DuGrey, the epitome of the hellish side of Chilton. The arrogant and fickle playboy who'd made Rory's life a living hell. On purpose. The boy who'd disappeared in the middle of her junior year, due to the appearance of his true colors. The boy who'd made a name from the bible one of Rory's most hated words. Mary ranked right around the names Adolph Hitler and Joseph Stalin.

This wasn't possible. Rory'd always had good instincts when it came to people; she'd always been able to separate the good from the bad. And Tristan was bad.

But this couldn't be Tristan DuGrey. Her boss- the attractive man so kind and loving to his sisters and his fiancée, so patient with her- this man could not be Tristan.

"No," she stated, her mind boggled.

Tristan frowned. "What?"

"You aren't him," Rory sputtered, shaking her head. "It's just a coincidence. You share the same name. You look alike. But-"

Tristan just stood there, laughing. At her. This angered Rory immensely, and she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "You're just a clone," she babbled on, almost incoherently, aware she was making no sense. "Your parents have enough money. They had you cloned. To see if they could work the kinks out."

"Kinks? My, Miss Gilmore, you're being absolutely kinky today. Care to take it to the backseat?"

Rory shook her head quickly, her cheeks flushing scarlet. "No. I don't know you. I can't know you." She bit her lip, glancing away toward the two young girls, standing off to the side, confused. "Normandy, Emilie, go get in the car. I'll-"

Tristan sighed, running a hand through his hair. So this was the way it was going to go. Rory living in her make-believe world, ignoring him every chance she got. Well, it wasn't much different than how she'd treated him in high school. He could deal with that.

Normandy sat in the backseat next to her sister, her brow furrowed as she glanced from her brother to her nanny. Apparently the two knew each other from Chilton. Meaning they couldn't have been more than juniors- say 16 or 17- when they met.

Normandy had a perfect view of her brother's face due to the position of the mirrors. He was grinning, occasionally shaking his head and saying something, goading the nanny.

Miss Gilmore, on the other hand, was scrunched back in her seat, sulking moodily and looking out the window. When Tristan said something, she'd snarl yet not turn her face to look at him. 

Normandy'd heard Miss Gilmore refusing to accept Tristan's identity, which made little sense to the girl. The nanny had known Tristan's name for days now, and never commented before. Normandy pondered this for a while, before finally deciding it mustn't be the name at all, but something the nanny associated with it.

Turning her gaze on Emilie, she noticed her sister sleeping, her head bowed toward the side window, away from Normandy. As she listened to Emilie's soft, steady breathing, Normandy frowned. She wondered if Emilie had caught the tense feeling of the car. It was certainly hard to overlook.

Normandy stayed quiet for an additional ten minutes, until she cleared her throat and glanced at her brother. "You missed the exit," she spoke up, knitting her brow. Tristan wasn't usually this off the ball.

"Shit," Tristan mumbled, whipping the car over into the side lane. 

Well, this should be interesting. Whatever was going on between her brother and the nanny… had officially started taking time out of her life.

"We're going to be late."

"No we aren't," Tristan answered quickly, glancing from his watch to the traffic jam ahead of him. "Shit, yes we are."

"I told you," Normandy said ominously, rolling her eyes. "You're always late. If you were Corina, you'd leave early so that I-"

"I'm not Corina." Tristan glanced back at Normandy and Emilie, glowering. He hated it when the girls compared him to the 'perfect' cook. "I'm sorry, I was out. I left as soon as I could."

Normandy glared back at Tristan. "Perhaps you wouldn't have been out if you'd made other arrangements, or actually kept an organized schedule. I've been after you for months to-"

"Mandy! I'm not Corina, you are not my mother. You're my little sister. You're seven years old!"

"I'll be eight within the month," Normandy answered, surprisingly coolly. "Or perhaps you forgot that as well." She leaned against her seat, staring out the window.

He had to hand it to her. Normandy certainly knew how to end a conversation.

Three freaking hours. Tristan clapped yet again as another song performed by a group of tone-deaf, overdressed grammar school students came to a close.

Normandy's solo hadn't come yet, so it wasn't even like he could leave the room. Two more songs first. He glanced over at Rory, who'd made a point of staring straight ahead, and sitting as far away from Tristan as the adjoining chair would allow.

She'd pulled her hair back into a loose bun for the event, and she was wearing a blue dress. She wore very little makeup, with the exception of lip gloss, but she didn't need to. The blue hue of her gown brought out her eye color wonderfully.

Tristan jerked back in his seat, realizing where his mind was going. He couldn't allow it to. Rory may have resembled his fiancee a little, but his lust for Rory had ended back in high school.

He had to overcome these strange feelings. They could seriously throw him off his game. He loved Amelie. Like he'd told her millions of times, he didn't need anyone else.

Tuesday morning was bleak and dreary, and Rory winced as she looked out the window. The weather reports were predicting a downpour, and Rory had no umbrella. Worse, she'd be stuck with Tristan in the rain. Fun, fun.

He came downstairs as Rory was swirling a spoon in her coffee absently, staring out the window. He watched her as he tied his tie, shaking his head. "The weather's not too promising," he said, making a first attempt at conversation since Sunday night.

Rory glanced over at him. "Yep," she answered simply, before turning her gaze to her cup of coffee. She raised the cup slowly, took a delicate sip. "I don't have an umbrella."

"I do." Tristan paused. "What time does the funeral start."

"Ten-thirty."

"Oh." There was an uncomfortable silence, and Tristan watched Rory as she continued to swirl her coffee around. "Well. We should be going then." He turned, grabbing his car keys from the counter he'd left them on the previous night. "You ready?"

"Sure."

It started to rain at 11:30, right as the burial was being commenced. Rory stood with Paris, unsure whether she was more wet due to the rain or the tears that wracked her friend's body. She hugged Paris supportively, wondering whether Paris could support herself on such wobbly legs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered, crying herself now. It was an odd quirk of hers. When someone she knew was crying, she cried too. Her mother had always told her it was a good thing, that it meant she cared. Rory wasn't so sure now, as it grew increasingly hard to support herself and her friend.

Between sobs, Paris managed to mumble, "Thank… you… for… coming."

Rory smiled sadly, shaking her head. "Don't thank me, Paris. I had to come." She paused, glancing over at Tristan who stood to the side, staring at Rory and Paris. "I care too much about you not to," she said simply.

Tristan stared at the two women, clinging to each other as they cried, barely able to stand. It was a depressing sight. He remembered that during his time at Chilton, the two had despised each other. Paris had made Rory's life a living hell. Because of him.

Tristan shook his head, remembering how he'd led Paris on, letting her think she'd had a chance. Telling her Rory had set them up. He'd been an idiot. He'd known Paris since they were in diapers, yet he hadn't thought about what her reaction would be, how she'd treat Rory.

Rory had every right to hate him. Narrowing his gaze so he was just looking at the brunette, he sighed. Her hair, which had been soft and wavy earlier in the morning, was now unkempt and dripping. Her black dress was soaked as well, and she was shivering.

Glancing up at his umbrella, he sighed. He turned toward them, making his way around the stragglers still at the burial ground. 

When he reached them, both girls glanced up. They looked absolutely miserable, and Paris' mascara had run down her cheeks, leaving behind a river of black, running to her chin, curving away from her nose. She was leaning heavily against Rory, and Rory seemed to be struggling to keep her standing. He stepped between the two girls, and he instantly found Paris' arms around his neck, her head against his chest. He stared solemnly at Rory as she stepped under the umbrella, running a hand down Paris' back and whispering words of solace. 

As Rory tucked an arm around his back and leaned against Tristan's shoulder, he had to remind himself it was a sad occasion. Rory was only seeking comfort because she was upset. She would've leaned on any other man just as quickly.

Tristan wondered why this upset him so much.

__

Darling I hope / That my dream never haunted you / My heart is telling you / How much I wanted you


	6. Empathy

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Empathy

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: A sense of empathy… conversations… sisterly bonding

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Nor do I own Shelter's _Empathy_. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Joan.

Feedback is always appreciated. You guys know me well enough to know I'd never hold back a chapter over it… err, with the exception of Loz and Joan, lol, but it does make an author more enthused. Plus, I'm the kind of person who will comment on good feedback in an author's note, maybe pimp a fic.

__

Emphatize can I look through your eyes / I'll find different paradigms / And different minds never two of kind  


It was chilly. The black material clung to her thin frame the same way her hair clung to her face. Rory tucked a strand of her straggly hair behind her ear as she leaned against Tristan's side, watching the black limousine pull away.

  
After a long moment, Tristan cleared his throat. "Are you ready to go?" His voice was surprisingly gentle.

"Yes," Rory said, biting her bottom lip and looking down at her hands childishly. 

Tristan started to walk toward his car, but paused when he noticed Rory hadn't followed. He glanced back and found her standing in the same spot, staring at the newly covered plot. Sighing, he walked back to her and placed a hand on the small of her back. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," she said again, her voice hollow.

Still she didn't move. Pushing his hand against the small of her back, he added, "If you want to stay here a little longer…"

"No." Rory took a hesitant step, allowing Tristan to guide her to the car. 

Tristan glanced at Rory as he drove. She hadn't said a word, just staring out the window as he drove. He didn't think Rory had known Mrs. Gellar very well.

She seemed to read his thoughts. "I only met her twice," she said quietly, still facing away from him.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "And you're still so…"

"Involved?" Rory shrugged her shoulders heavily. "Paris and I are good friends. Do you know anyone well enough that when they're hurt or in a bad place emotionally… you are too? That's how it is with me. I'm that way with most of my friends."

Amelie. The girl definitely had a way of making him feel guilty. He'd almost forgotten about his fiancée. "Yeah."

Rory finally met his gaze, her tear rimmed eyes meeting his guilt-ridden ones. They lapsed back into silence.

"How's your weekend been?"

The cheery question simply added to Tristan's guilt. "Okay."

"Just okay?" Amelie sighed. "I feel bad now. I've had so much fun and I left you behind with the nanny and your sisters. I shouldn't have done that."

"Don't feel bad, Amelie. You deserve the break. What have you done?"

"Rebecca and I went to a book store, and guess who was there, holding a signing!"

Tristan smiled at the excitement in her voice. "I don't know."

"Lola Winslow. She was holding a signing for her newest novel."

"The flower one, right?"

"Wildflowers, silly," Amelie responded, laughing. "Daddy's company published it, but I didn't think I'd ever be able to speak with an author as well known as her."

"Did she know who you were?" Stupid question. Everyone knew who Amelie Rousseau was.

"Not until I gave her my name to sign the book. She kind of paused, so I told her that Paul was my dad, and she got all excited. It was so cool." She paused, seeming to sober from her excitement. "Where were you today? I called earlier."

"At a funeral."

Amelie gasped. "Oh no. Who died, Tristan? Was it someone close-"

"No, no, no," he said quickly, trying to calm down Amelie. "It was Paris Gellar's mother. It turns out Rory's friends with Paris, too, so…" He trailed off, not sure if he should tell Amelie that he and Rory had known each other beforehand.

"Did you tell Paris that we're both sorry for her loss? She seemed like such a nice girl that time I met her."

Tristan wasn't listening to her words. If he told her, she may get worried, not trust him. She might not believe he hadn't recognized Rory on sight. But if he didn't tell her, and she found out from Rory or someone else, she'd be upset. She'd think he was purposely holding back on her. There was no reason for him to do that, he tried to assure himself. He failed miserably.

"Rory went to my high school," he blurted out.

"Oh." Amelie's voice wasn't upset, or overjoyed. She sounded normal enough.

"I didn't know before I ran into Louise Grant the other day, I swear. I-"

"I believe you. It doesn't change anything, Tristan. It doesn't matter. Well, I suppose it does. She's a Chilton student. You should probably pay her better."

Tristan smiled in relief. It was times like these when he was reminded of why he loved Amelie so much.

Emilie entered the sitting room to find Normandy sitting on the couch, watching television. "What are you watching?" she asked, sitting down next to her older sister.

Normandy didn't take her gaze off of the television. "The weather."

Emilie nodded. "That's all you ever watch. You don't even watch the news."

"I read the news." Normandy paused. "Emilie, haven't you noticed that everything's dramatized for television. Including the news. It's quite disreputable. Earthquakes, fires, tornados… they're all bad enough without being inflated upon."

"What's that mean? Dis…"

"Disreputable, lacking respectability, dishonorable," Normandy answered patiently, scooting over to give Emilie more room.

"Oh." Emilie watched the weather silently for a moment, before turning to Normandy. "Can we watch something else?"

"What would you like to watch?"

"I don't know. Lizzie McGuire or something. What's on?"

Normandy quickly flipped to the Disney Channel. "Even Stevens," she said, wrinkling her nose. 

Emilie bit her lip. "Can we watch it?"

Normandy nodded, standing up. "Go ahead."

"Normandy, watch it with me," Emilie pouted. "You never do anything with me anymore."

Normandy sighed, glancing at the television screen. "Fine."

Nine o'clock. She should probably put the girls to bed now. They had school tomorrow. Rory sighed, standing up slowly from her chair and dog-earing the page she was on in her novel.

The two were still in the sitting room, Emilie leaning against Normandy's shoulder. "Girls, it's nine o-"

"Shh!" Normandy held a finger to her lips, gesturing to Emilie. "She's asleep."

Rory's eyes widened as she took in the two girls more closely. She hadn't thought Normandy would be so sisterly; she acted much too mature to put up with Emilie's childishness. "Oh." She stood there awkwardly in the door, not sure if she should move the sleeping child.

Normandy solved the problem for her. Standing up, she tapped Emilie on the shoulder. "Bedtime," she said simply, and taking Emilie's hand, helped her to her feet. She turned to Rory and said in explanation, "Emilie's neck hurts when she sleeps in odd positions."

"Oh." Rory watched silently as Normandy led Emilie to her room. 

"Still as erudite as ever, I see."

Rory glanced up to find Tristan DuGrey leaning against the doorframe to her room, smiling.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably, putting her book down on the bed. "I still read," she answered carefully, watching him. She'd been trying to avoid him as much as possible, but it was more difficult since her mini-breakdown at the funeral.

"Still reading _Raspberry Rain_?"

Rory crinkled her nose and shook her head. "Nope. It was a short read." Holding up Wildflowers, she added, "This is much longer."

Tristan nodded. "Amelie just read that. She actually met the author today. Apparently Miss Winslow had a signing today."

Rory nodded. "I heard about that."

"Oh, okay." He turned to leave, seeing the conversation was clearly over.

"Hey, Tristan?"

"Yeah?" He turned back around. 

"I just had a question. Um. So you're obviously my age. So, are you going to college or anything? I'm just curious because you always seem to be busy and-" She rambled on.

Tristan shook his head. "No. I'm taking the year off."

"Oh." Rory paused. "Why? Unless you don't want to answer which I'd completely understand…"

Tristan smiled sadly. "Sometimes, not everything goes according to plan, Rory. Sometimes you need to let life lead you, veer from your plans a bit," he answered vaguely.

"Oh. Right."

__

And it'll bring me back down to size again / I live in a world where I'm the center of it / And everyone else seem so small  



	7. Crush

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: 1-2 Crush

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: The secretary's crush… Normandy and Emily go to school… a lecture… Rory and Jordan talk

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Nor do I own The Clash's _1-2 Crush_. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Joan and Katherine. Cuz you were there the whole time I wrote this chapter and dealt with my craziness.

Feedback is always appreciated. You guys know me well enough to know I'd never hold back a chapter over it… err, with the exception of Loz and Joan, lol, but it does make an author more enthused. Plus, I'm the kind of person who will comment on good feedback in an author's note, maybe pimp a fic.

  


__

My mind don't need it but my body do / A little bit of loving and attention for you / although we're only strangers

The offices of Danvers and Associates were fairly cool for this time of year. Joan Murray leaned back in her office chair, watching as people came through the doors. It was a fairly busy day, and her boss hadn't even shown up yet.

She sighed as the phone rang, picking it up, her annoyance evident in her voice. "Danvers and Associates. How may I direct your call?" she said dully, tapping her fingernails against her desk.

"I need a lawyer," came a female response.

Well, duh. Why else did people call a law office? "What's your case about?" Really, this could be quite pointless.

"Um…" The voice grew quieter, as if the person was ashamed. "I was accused of some petty theft."

Petty theft. Depending on the person, that could be anything from stealing a stick of gum to a new laptop. "Ma'am, the lawyer who handles those cases is sick today. But if you'd like to leave your information…" There was a click on the other end and the call was disconnected.

The door swung open and Joan glanced up to find her boss strolling across the office, smiling and talking to employees as if he hadn't come in nearly two hours late. "Mr. DuGrey," she said as he reached her desk.

Tristan lifted his chin in a gesture meant to be hello. "Joan. Have I gotten any calls?"

She looked at him as if he were insane. "The office opened two hors ago. You've gotten dozens."

Tristan ran a hand through his hair, meeting her gaze. "I'm sorry, Joan. I really am. Emilie missed the bus and the governess had already left for school…" He offered a smile. "I really am sorry, Joan."

Joan raised an eyebrow. It was nearly ten. Even if his little sister had missed the bus, he should've been in before nine. "Oh." She didn't say anything else, simply stared up at him. Tristan had a way of shutting everyone up with that smile of his.

Rory slipped into the seat Jordan had saved for her for the Journalism lecture. Tapping Jordan on the shoulder, she whispered, "What did I miss?"

Jordan held up a finger as she finished jotting down her notes, then glanced at Rory. "Nothing you didn't already know." Still, she handed Rory her notes.

Rory scanned the notes. Privacy violations, morals, ethics. Simple enough. Looking to the front of the room, she noticed a man talking whom she didn't recognize. "Who's that?"

"Dr. James Nolan. He writes for _Time_."

"Really?" Rory leaned forward to get a closer look at the older man. The overhead lights were reflecting off his glasses, so a good portion of his face wasn't visible under the lights. His hair was both graying and balding, and his stomach was a prominent feature. Certainly not the way she'd pictured a star journalist.

She turned to Jordan, who'd seemed to read her mind. "Hope I don't end up looking like that," Jordan said, bringing a hand to her thick blonde hair.

Rory giggled. The day Jordan lost a strand of hair would be the day the world paid. As much as she loved Jordan, she had to admit she was a bit shallow. Must run in the family.

Normandy raised an eyebrow as the teacher spoke. "See, all words that end in y are changed to ies for the plural. For example, Ally, how do you spell ponies?"

Allison Harris frowned and put her pencil down. "P-O-N-I-E-S."

"Correct." Mrs. Jensen searched the room for her next 'victim.' "Mandy, spell the plural of candy."

Normandy winced at the nickname. "C-A-N-D-I-E-S." Pausing, she added, "But you're wrong."

Mrs. Jensen cross her arms over her chest. "What do you mean I'm wrong? Mandy, I've spoken to you before about this…" she said, her tone holding a warning.

Normandy sighed loudly. She didn't usually have a flair for the dramatic, but she knew it annoyed Mrs. Jensen. The woman was quite the simpleton. "Mrs. Jensen, that rule does not always work, similarly to the i before e rule. Spell the plural of monkey, Mrs. Jensen," she said, her voice almost taunting.

Mrs. Jensen's eyes widened and she glanced away. "Normandy…" her voice was harsh, but quivering.

Normandy leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow. It was strangely satisfying.

  


Joan sighed as Tristan entered his office. She really shouldn't be working here. It wasn't a good idea. She'd admitted to herself months ago that she was attracted to Tristan. And she didn't want that kind of relationship with her boss. Plus, he was engaged.

The phone rang, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Danvers and Associates. How may I direct your call?" Her voice was too perky, and she wondered if it sounded suspicious. 

"Hi, Joan," came a sweet, familiar voice. "It's Amelie. Is Tristan in?"

Joan bit her lip. There was that call she was expecting from her conscience. "Yeah, one minute Amelie." Standing up, she walked into Tristan's office. "Amelie's on the phone. Line 1."

"Thanks, Joan." He smiled, picking up the phone. Joan watched, stepping backwards away from his office, as he greeted his fiancée. Lucky, lucky woman.

"You haven't talked to me much since you moved in with my brother," Jordan complained, dragging Rory from the lecture hall.

Rory shrugged. "I've been busy. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Do something about it." Jordan grinned. "Come to lunch with me."

Rory glanced at the clock. She had a class at 1:30 and the girls got home at 3:00. She had the time. "Okay, but I have to be back here by 1:15." Jordan always ran late. It was better to give her extra time.

"No problem, Rory." Jordan shrugged. "I've actually got to meet up with Brian later."

"Brian? What happened to Ben?" Rory frowned.

"Ben? I dumped him a few days ago. He was too lazy, too boring. Plus, I'm too young to be tied down."

"Eventually that argument's going to get old," Rory warned, meeting Jordan's gaze. "I think you'd like a-"

"Rory, I'm not ready for a serious relationship, the whole nine yards. I'm not big on commitment."

Rory noted the 'drop it' tone in Jade's voice. Holding up her hands as if in defense, she said, "Hey, sorry I brought it up. Lets just go get lunch, okay?"

It was hot outside. Emilie was happy Rory'd had her wear shorts today. She took a sip from her water bottle and ran across the playground to wear Normandy was sitting on a swing.

"Normandy," she greeted, waving.

Normandy glanced up and gestured for Emilie to come closer. "Hi."

Emilie sat down on the swing next to her sister and pushed back with her feet. As she pumped her legs, she glanced over at her sister. "Why aren't you swinging?"

Normandy's feet were planted firmly on the ground. "Didn't feel like it."

Emilie sighed. "Normandy, you're no fun."

"Fun is overrated," she stated simply, pushing herself backward a little. "Happy?" she asked as the swing rocked a little.

Emilie frowned, jumping off her own swing and stepping behind Normandy. Pushing her sister with all her might, she jumped out of the way and grinned. Watching the swing as it gathered speed, she said, "Now I am."

Normandy's only response was a rolling of her eyes.

Rory groaned as the phone rang several hours earlier. Checking the Caller ID, she answered, "You're late."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, Rory. Listen, I got tied up at work. I should be home in another hour. Just have Corina make the girls dinner and then put Mandy in charge. She'll make sure Emilie gets her homework done."

Rory smiled in spite of herself. "Okay."

Tristan sighed. "Hey, I really have to go. I'm up to my shoulders in work."

Rory raised an eyebrow. "Your shoulders?"

Tristan laughed. "Um, yeah. I'll see you later, Rory. Bye."

Rory hung up the phone. Great. An extra hour before she could start her work for Journalism class. Hearing a laugh behind her, Rory spun around. Corina stood there, smiling. "Let me guess. Tristan's work running over?"

Rory nodded. "Yep."

"Last time he pulled that one was when he first started dating Amelie."

Rory paused. "You don't think…"

Corina shook her head quickly. "Oh, no. Certainly not. Tristan loves Amelie. I mean, who doesn't? She's such a sweetie."

"Yeah, but…" Considering what Tristan was like in high school, she couldn't put it past him.

"No. I doubt Tristan even thinks he's good enough for Amelie. There's no way he'd do that." Corina shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not."

Emilie twirled the mashed potatoes around on her plate, staring at the food. Normandy was acting similarly, staring at the door.

Rory frowned. Both girls had been acting odd since dinner started. "What happened at school?" she asked, wondering if that had anything to do with it.

Emilie shrugged, not glancing up. "Not much."

Rory sighed. "Oh." Now what should she say. Well, might as well be frank. "What's wrong?"

Emilie glanced at Normandy before she spoke, as if for permission. "Tristan promised he'd be home on time tonight."

"Oh." Rory could see that Emilie might be the kind of person to rely on an older sibling, but Normandy seemed too independent.

"He brings us dessert on Wednesdays."

Ah, so there it was. Nothing affects a child more than the promise of food. "He said he'd be home shortly after dinner. You guys could wait a while for dessert, start your homework."

Normandy's eyes widened. "It's done."

Rory bit her lip. She'd probably just insulted Normandy, made her feel she didn't think she was responsible. 

Rory met the young brunette's eyes. She'd been a lot like Normandy when she was younger. Not quite as solemn, but as serious. Normandy was actually a lot like her.

__

They don't need to know / I gotta come clean, I gotta come clean / Ooh, I gotta crush on you


	8. What a Day

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: What a Day

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: An office emergency… a car accident

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Nor do I own The Beatle's _Good Morning, Good Morning._ Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Joan, Katherine, and Mary-Kate. Sigh. Without you guys, I wouldn't have anything to do.

Feedback is always appreciated. You guys know me well enough to know I'd never hold back a chapter over it… err, with the exception of Loz and Joan, lol, but it does make an author more enthused. Plus, I'm the kind of person who will comment on good feedback in an author's note, maybe pimp a fic.

__

Going to work don't want to go feeling low down / Heading for home you start to roam then you're in town / Everybody knows there's nothing doing / Everything is closed it's like a ruin  


Tristan set the telephone back in its cradle, glancing into the waiting room, where Joan was trying to calm a desperate man.

He covered his mouth to stifle a laugh as he entered the room and heard what Joan was saying.

"Sir," Joan said, "we don't offer paternity tests here. We don't have that kind of resource just lying around. Plus, I really don't think now is the time…" She glanced helplessly toward the woman in the chair near the door.

Tristan's eyes widened. This guy was insane. He walked quickly over to the man, pushing Joan behind him. "Sir, I could arrange for a test to be administered as early as next week. But for now…" He trailed off, gesturing to the woman, now squeezing Joan's hand as she struggled to steady her breathing.

"She promised she'd find out who the goddamned father is before the freakin' baby's born. She's a goddamned slut; why are you siding with her? She's just a freakin' whore."

Joan cleared her throat as the woman whimpered. "Um, Tristan… she needs to go to the hospital now."

Tristan grimaced. "Yeah, I noticed."

The man rubbed the top of his head. "Whatever, the whore's not my problem anymore."

Tristan watched in awe as the man stormed from the office.

"Thanks for you help, Joan. I don't know what I would've done tonight if you didn't stay late."

Tristan's Porsche was parked in the Hartford Hospital parking lot. They'd checked the woman in and stayed a few minutes before leaving.

Joan shrugged. "It was a team effort," she said modestly, glancing down at her lap. "You had the car." She froze, bringing her wrist to her face. "It's past 7."

"Yeah?" Tristan frowned.

"My bus leaves at 7," Joan started, swearing under her breath.

Tristan shrugged, turning the key in the ignition. "So? I'll give you a ride home. It's the least I can do. Where do you live?"

"Main Street. But if it's too far out of your way…" 

"It's fine. I have to stop and get ice cream on the way though, so you'll be a little bit later than you normally would…"

"That's fine," Joan said, relaxing in her seat and pulling the safety belt across her body.

"I broke up with him. He was an asshole. Not my type at all. You know the type, Ames. All me all the time. And when he wasn't talking about himself, he was talking about his car." Allison Rousseau crinkled her nose. "And it wasn't even _that_ nice."

Amelie glanced at her younger sister as she opened the door to Allison's car. "Ally, how do you always manage to pick that kind of guy?"

Allison shrugged. "Not everyone has your luck, Ames. You met Mr. Right on your first try."

Amelie smiled, pulling her hand up to study her engagement ring. It had belonged to her great-grandmother and had been passed down along the female line of Rousseaus. when Tristan had gone to Amelie's parents to tell them he was planning to propose, Julianna had insisted on the ring. "I know," Amelie said, her eyes brightening.

"Sometimes I swear I have a sign that says, 'If you're an asshole, I'm your girl.'" Allison sighed, backing the car out of a parking space in the shopping center parking lot.

A jolt sent Amelie reeling forward, and she braced herself against the dashboard. "What the…?"

Allison groaned, unbuckling her seatbelt. "This is what you call being rear ended." She stepped out of the car, shaking her head.

Amelie followed. A tall man about their age stepped out from the driver's seat of a Toyota Camry, wincing. "I'm sorry about that," he said, running a hand over a dent on the back of his car.

Allison sighed, looking at the back of her BMW. The right side had been crush. "It's okay," she said. "I'll just call AAA and-"

"I think we should exchange information," Amelie said quickly. She and her other sisters had always teased Allison for not having any common sense when she was younger, but this took the cake.

"Right," the man said, pulling an insurance card from his wallet. "My insurance is going to be raised so much for this." He paused. "Since I was at fault, is there any way you could contact me and I'll pay you directly, instead of getting the cops and the RMV involved?"

Amelie wasn't sure what to say. Allison was just as at-fault as the man, but she was wary of the man. Even if his insurance was raised, she doubted it would be more than it would cost to repair the car. "Okay," she said hesitantly. 

He smiled, handing Amelie his insurance card. "By the way, I'm Max. Max Roberts."

Amelie nodded, copying down his information as Allison fished around in her purse for her insurance card.

"I'm Allison Rousseau," Allison said, handing Max her card. "And this is my sister, Amelie."

Max nodded, quickly jotting down Amelie's information and handing back the card. He took his card back and looked at Amelie. "Would you like me to stay while you wait for the tow truck?"

Amelie was about to respond they'd be fine on their own when Allison spoke up. "Yes, please. It would make us feel much safer knowing there's a man with us."

Amelie glanced from her sister to Max. He was attractive, with short dark hair and hazel eyes. Good skin, a nice body. Amelie rolled her eyes. Allison was hitting on the guy who'd just totaled her car.

It was a little after 8 when Tristan got home. He stumbled in the front door, a suitcase in one hand and balancing five soft serve ice creams in the other.

Rory took the tray and set it on the dining room table. "The girls were asking for you," she said, spreading the treats over the table. "What happened?"

"I figured they would be. Mandy and Corina's are the chocolates and mine and Emilie's are vanilla. I wasn't sure which you liked, so I got you on of those swirl things. Half and half." He avoided the other half of her statement.

"Thanks. That was nice of you." Rory paused, grinning. "Chocolate."

"Ah, a chocolate girl. Amelie could never decide which kind she wanted. So I-" Tristan was cut off as Emilie barreled into the room, throwing her arms around Tristan's legs.

"Hi! Did you bring home my dessert?" Emilie pouted.

Tristan grinned, scooping the little blonde off the floor. "Yep. Rory just set them out on the table." 

Normandy came down a minute later, holding the cordless. "Tristan…" she started, looking more pale than usual. "It's Amelie. She got into a car accident."

Tristan froze, setting Emilie on the ground. He covered the distance to Normandy in two strides, taking the phone and disappearing from the room.

Nearly an hour later, Tristan was still on the phone. Rory glanced across the table at his ice cream, now melted and starting to leak.

Corina noticed. She stood up, grabbing the shallow bowl and disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, she reappeared with a washcloth. As she scrubbed, she told Rory, "I hope everything's okay. He'd die if anything happened to Amelie."

Rory nodded. "Me too. I think everything will be okay, though. If she was really hurt, he probably wouldn't still be on the phone."

Corina stood up again. "You make a good point, Rory."

Rory glanced at her watch. "I'm going to go check on the girls. It's almost time for them to get ready for bed anyway."

Rory found Normandy and Emilie on the balcony off the drawing room. The two were sitting on a swinging chair, Normandy's arm supporting Emilie. 

Rory sat down on a stone bench opposite them. 

Emilie looked up at Rory's arrival. Sitting up straighter, she leaned forward and asked, "Have you talked to Tristan? Is she okay?"

Rory shook her head. "Not yet, Emilie. But I'm sure she's fine." Rory smiled as Emilie walked over and sat on her lap.

"How can you know that?" Normandy asked hesitantly.

"Well, think of it this way. If it was serious, Tristan would've left to go see her. He wouldn't just sit on the phone talking." Rory repeated what she'd said to Corina.

Normandy paused, mulling this over. "I suppose you're right," she said slowly.

Rory nodded, pulling Emilie into a standing position as she got up. "I'm figuring you girls won't be able to sleep until you know what's going on, and that's okay. But could you at least get your pajamas on and brush your teeth…"

Normandy nodded, standing up herself. "Okay. Our homework's already finished so…" She trailed off, grabbing Emilie's hand and leading her off the balcony.

Rory watched as Normandy and Emilie left the drawing room and continued down the hall to Emilie's room.

Another hour passed before Rory decided she should try to figure out what was going on.

Tristan was sitting at a desk in the library. "She's okay," he said as Rory entered the room from behind him.

Rory froze, surprised he'd known she was in the room. "Good," she recovered, walking over to him. "Do you want to be alone or…"

"Sit down," he said, shrugging. "It doesn't matter."

Rory pulled a chair over so she was sitting opposite him. "What happened?"

"Did the girls go to sleep?" he asked, as if he hadn't heard her question.

"No. They're in their PJs and everything, but I told them someone would tell them what was going on… What is going on?" She tried again.

"Amelie went shopping. When they were going to pull out of the parking lot, Ally-that's Amelie's sister- her car got rear ended. I guess the guy was an asshole, freaked Amelie out. he asked her not to file a report and she agreed since Ally was at fault too… and I've seen her drive. She's probably somewhere around Step 30 on her insurance plan as it is… now Amelie's freaking out."

"Oh." Rory paused. "But her and her sister are okay, right?"

"Yeah. I'll go tell my sisters and put them to bed. You probably have stuff to get done, anyway. I'm sorry for getting in late and everything."

Rory remembered her Journalism work. "Yeah, I do. But it's okay." She smiled. "Just try not to let it happen again."

Tristan smiled. "Okay, I'll try." 

__

Everyone you see is half asleep / And you're on your own, you're in the street / Good morning, good morning


	9. Way of the World

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Way of the World

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: A coffee making tutorial, in depth discussion, and Normandy's friends

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Nor do I own Cheap Trick's _Way of the World._ Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To the Trories at ORG. This is for you, for the party.

Feedback is always appreciated. Yeah, I'm changing this because of Loz. Well, you know the deal. I won't hold back updates, but I love reviews.

__

Remember, you were at work and then Friday at five, I remember, felt like a pawn, was I dead or alive? / I remember, thought no one could hear me, I was goin' insane.  
I remember, it was a real fine line, now you've changed my life around. / I've been runnin', I've been hidin', it's the way of the world. / You say it's over, but the world keeps turnin' 'round.  


Rory stumbled down the stairs to the first floor, bleary eyed. "Who schedules classes at 9 in the morning?" she grumbled, glancing at her watch. It was 8, which meant she only had an hour to get ready.

Walking down the hall to the dining room, she froze when she heard a voice. As she neared, she saw Tristan in the kitchen, standing over a coffeemaker. 

"Were you just…" She trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

Tristan turned back, startled. "Having an in-depth discussion with the coffeemaker? Yes. Yes I am." He turned back to the coffeemaker, tapping it on the side.

"Sounds more like an argument," she said, walking in the door.

"No, no. Me and Mr. Coffee generally get along fine. Well, at least we do when I'm not the one using him."

Rory glanced at the coffeemaker. "Maybe he prefers a woman's touch," she said, pushing him to the side. Surveying the situation, she sighed. "_This_ is not how you make coffee."

"Huh?" Tristan cocked his head to the side, looking at the coffeemaker. "I put the water and the ground coffee mix in."

Rory sighed, taking the coffeepot out and dumping its contents in the sink. "Yeah, I noticed. But Tristan, you aren't supposed to put the water in the pot. That's part of the process."

Rory took a measuring cup from the counter, filling it with water. "See this latch thing on the top?" She pointed to the top, opening the flap. "That's where you put the water." She poured the water in, demonstrating as she spoke. "Then you put the pot back under and turn on the machine and let it work its magic." She smirked at Tristan as she turned on the machine.

Tristan sighed, glancing away. "Well, now that I've proved to you just how incompetent I am…"

Rory smiled, glancing back at the coffeemaker as the dark liquid started to drip out. "Well, I'll let it go if you can show me that you know how to pour it. Bring me a cup when it's done." She smiled, disappearing from the kitchen, resuming her walk to the dining room.

"And here's your coffee. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

Rory turned around as Tristan walked into the room, holding two cups of coffee. "No, thank you," she said, taking one of the mugs.

Tristan sat down next to her, taking a sip from his mug. "What are you doing up this early?"

"Class." Rory shrugged. "I guess I could ask you the same."

Tristan nodded. "Yeah, you could. But the answer's not interesting. I just woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep. What time do you think I should call the hospital around?"

"I didn't know Amelie was in the hospital."

Tristan laughed at his oversight. "Right, I didn't tell you. She's not. The reason I was late last night…"

"Oh. Someone else is in the hospital?"

Tristan nodded. "Yeah. A guy showed up at the firm yesterday. His girlfriend or wife or whatever was in labor and he wanted a paternity test to be done then."

Rory raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." Tristan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "When we told him it was impossible to have it done right then, he stormed out."

"We?"

"Um, my secretary was there too."

"Oh. So you were stuck with a woman about to have a baby."

"Yeah. Well, we ended up driving her to the hospital then I had to drive Joan home because she missed her bus and it was just… stressful."

"Joan's the secretary?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"So, you're stressed when you get home and then you find out your fiancée was in a car accident. Not a good day."

"No wonder you're up so early."

"Yeah." Tristan sighed again, taking another sip from his mug. "Thanks for all your help."

Rory smiled.

"You look happy."

Normandy raised an eyebrow as Ethan Calhoun sat down opposite her at the cafeteria table, pushing his tray toward her. "Hey."

"Hungry?" he asked, offering her a fry.

Normandy crinkled her nose. "Sure. A quick way to clogged arteries. I'm in," she said sarcastically, pushing the tray back toward him.

"You're too serious for your own good," Ethan said.

Normandy rolled her eyes, glancing toward the lunch line. "Where's Anna?"

"Somewhere in the line. She'll be over in a minute." He paused. "Scott's sick today."  


"He's sick." Her tone was slightly sarcastic, as if she doubted this.

"He had a science test today." Ethan shrugged. "You know how Scott is. He probably faked throwing up and convinced the nanny he's too sick to come to school."

"Lovely imagery, Ethan. Thanks for that."

"Sorry, Norm."

"How many times have I told you not to call me that? You know I-" Normandy was interrupted as Anna reached the table.

"Normandy. Ethan," she greeted as she sat down.

Ethan nodded to Anna. "Hey, Anna, don't you agree that Normandy's too serious. Tell her to lighten up, have some fun."

Anna smirked. "Are you forgetting who you're talking to, Mr. Calhoun? I don't think anybody's ever asked _me_ to tell anybody to lighten up."

Ethan sighed, taking in Anna. Her skin was pale in contrast to her dark hair and dark clothing, and she looked almost gothic. "Yeah, right. Sorry, Anna."

Normandy smiled slightly, looking at her best friends. 

"You should do lunch with us," Jordan said, wrapping her arm around her boy toy of the day, Mike. 

Rory glanced over at the two. Mike was attempting to kiss Jordan's neck, and Jordan was trying to push him away. "Um, yeah. I think that's a good idea. Except…"

"Except what?" Jordan asked, pulling away from Mike. 

"The girls have a half day. And I promised to pick them up, so…"

"So you need to be back." Jordan paused. "Well, I have an idea. How about we come back with you? I love seeing my sisters anyway. I mean, Normandy can be a little scary but Emilie's cool."

"Um, okay then." Rory looked warily over at Mike. "But try to keep the PDA down to a minimum."

Jordan nodded. "Normandy would give me some snippy comment anyway."

"That's if I didn't first," Rory pointed out.

It had been pointless to ask Jordan to cool down. The girl was like a one woman freak show, Rory thought, glancing over to where Jordan and Mike were sitting in a LAZ-boy.

Or rather, where Mike was sitting and Jordan was on his lap. Rory sighed, spreading peanut butter across a slice of bread.

Normandy and Emilie sat on a sofa to the side of the LAZ-boy. Emilie was looking down, uncomfortable. Normandy, on the other hand, was staring at her half sister, snarling.

Rory sighed. "Jordan…"

Jordan ignored her.

Rory tried again. "You guys, lunch is ready. If you want a sandwich or whatever, come get it."

Emilie stood up and ran over to Rory, grabbing two sandwiches. "One for Normandy," she explained to Rory, before running back to her sister.

Normandy took the sandwich silently, still looking at Jordan. "Dear sister of mine, why don't you retire to a room," she drawled slowly.

Jordan pulled back for a second, raising an eyebrow. "Stop being a voyeur, Normandy."

"I don't need to be a voyeur when you're all over a guy who, by the way, will be history by Friday."

Mike frowned. "Tomorrow's Friday."

"Bingo." Normandy rolled her eyes. "See, Michael, Jordan's not very good with commitments. I'm sure she's wonderful in other… activities… but commitment's not one of her talents."

Jordan rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything.

Normandy sighed, picking up the newspaper sitting on the coffee table, shrugging at Emilie.

"How are you feeling?"

"Um, good. Better. I think I'll be back in school tomorrow."

Normandy rolled her eyes, shifting the phone as she laid down on her stomach. "Scott, you're lying to me."

"No… no I'm not." 

There was an awkward pause, and Normandy sighed. "Scott, do you need help in Science?"

"You'd help me?" Scott laughed. "No offense, Normandy, but you don't seem like you'd be the most patient person."

"I didn't say I was. I just don't want to be stuck with just Ethan and Anna at lunch anymore. You know that's gauche."

"I'm sure I would if I knew what gauche meant."

"Awkward."

"Oh. Then yeah, definitely." Scott paused. "Ethan's crush is kind of sickening. Anna doesn't care about him that way."

"Yep."

"We're too young for that kind of relationship anyway. Hand holding's gross anyway. Ethan's weird."

"Yep."

"Were the girls good?" Tristan asked as he walked into the drawing room hours later.

Rory glanced up from her notes, shrugging. "The two younger ones were. It's your twin you needs to be babysat."

Tristan winced. "Jordan came over."

"Sat on her boyfriend's lap and played tonsil hockey in front of her little sisters. Yes. Jordan did."

Tristan sighed, sitting down next to Rory. "I thought you and Jordan are friends."

Rory nodded quickly. "Oh, we are. That's not it. I just don't always… approve of the things she does. I mean, I wasn't raised really strict or anything, but I just think there's a time and a place for those things."

"And that the place isn't in front of a five year old," Tristan added.

Rory nodded. "She's a great person. Just, sometimes I wonder if she's all _there_. She has her moments, I guess."

Tristan laughed. "That's a mild way of putting it."

"Yeah." She shrugged, studying Tristan. "You've changed a lot," she said suddenly.

"I hope that's a good thing," Tristan said, smiling. 

"Yeah, it is." Rory paused, turning toward him. "In high school, you were like, the stereotypical rich playboy. Egomaniac, mean to the new kids, making out with random girls…"

Tristan smiled. "I didn't make out with that many girls. How would you know, anyway? You only knew me for that year and a half."

"Your reputation precedes you."

"What?" Tristan laughed, shaking his head. "I really wasn't that bad. I wasn't the best person for a committed relationship, but I only had like, three girlfriends my sophomore year."

"No…" Rory shook her head.

"Seriously."

"You're lying."

Tristan shook his head. "No, I'm really not. Why would I? I went out with more girls in Freshman year, but Sophomore year was different." Tristan paused, looking down at her. "I didn't really want a ton of girls. I just wanted one."

"Oh, right. You were hung up on Summer."

Tristan opened his mouth to speak, but shook his head and got up, walking from the room. Rory sighed, furrowing her brow.

__

World goes round, life goes on, and on, and on. / World goes 'round, (I've been runnin') / World is round (I've been hidin') / Life goes on and on and on ((It's the way of the world).  



	10. EZ

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: EZ

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Back to Amelie, a lost letter, and some childish interaction

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Nor do I own Pete Yorn's _EZ._ Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Steve.

Feedback is always appreciated. Well, you know the deal. I won't hold back updates, but I love reviews.

__

It was easy when you were younger / You can put it back together / It was there if you ever wanted it / But you closed the door and said goodbye for good.  


"No, no, don't worry about it." Allison Rousseau said lightly, tilting her head so she wouldn't drop the phone. "No, I'm serious. It's just…"

Amelie looked up, rolling her eyes. Allison had been on the phone for over an hour, talking to Max Roberts. Max Roberts, the guy who had trashed her car. "Allison…" she said quietly.

Allison turned to Amelie, gesturing with a finger for Amelie to hold on another minute. "Oh no, it's just my sister. Amelie, you met her."

"I really need to call Tristan," Amelie sighed, checking her watch for the fifth time in the last few minutes. "Like half an hour ago."

Allison glared at her, then turned back to her conversation. "Listen Max, I have to go. I'll call you later… No, I don't think I do. I misplaced it. Can I have it again?" Allison grabbed a pen and jotted down a number on a napkin. "Okay, thanks. I'll call you later." 

After she'd hung up, Amelie stood up quickly, glaring at her sister. "What was that about?"

"I was just talking… didn't you think Max was attractive, Ames?"

Amelie's eyes widened. "Um, sure. But Allison… you are aware that he wrecked your car, right? Not exactly prime dating material." She snatched the phone from her sister's grasp, dialing Tristan's cell as she spoke.

"I'm aware. But he _did_ offer to pay for the damages. Plus, he seems interested, and I'm single again. Why not go for it?"

Amelie shook her head as the phone echoed the ringing of the other line. "This is wrong on so many levels."

"This is wrong on so many levels."

Tristan frowned, glancing again at the Caller ID. "What's wrong, Amelie? Did something happen?"

He heard her delicate laugh through the phone. "No, no. I was talking to Allison. She's decided to pursue the guy who ruined her car."

"Romantically?" Tristan asked, leaning back in his swivel chair.

"Unfortunately." Amelie let out an audible sigh, clearly waiting until someone left the room. "I just don't want to see her get hurt again. She never seems to pick the good guys, Tristan."

"Don't worry, Amelie. You've tried to talk her out of it, right?"

"Yes…"

"Then it's out of your hands. You have to let her make her own mistakes."

"I love you. I wish Allison could find a guy like you…"

"I love you too." Tristan paused. "So what's up? I'm thinking you didn't call just to talk about Allison's love life, as interesting as it may be."

"I'm going to be stuck here a few extra days. Rebecca had to go back home, because there was some problem at work. And I promised I'd stay until she got back."

"When will you get back?"

"Hopefully by Tuesday."

Tristan sighed, upset. "Okay. I miss you, Amelie."

"I miss you, too… I wish I could come home sooner."

"I know. Well, have fun with your sisters. I'll keep everything sane here… well, as sane as possible." He picked up the picture of Amelie he kept on his desk, smiling. "Love you."

"Love you, too… I have to go. Allison's making weird faces at me."

Tristan laughed. "Okay. See you soon."

"Bye."

He listened to the dial phone for a minute before setting down the phone. Gazing off into the waiting room of the office, he met Joan's gaze as she dealt with a client. She smiled, shaking her head.

"It's not here," Normandy said seriously, glancing at Rory. 

Rory shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. It was just here a couple minutes ago. It couldn't have just disappeared."

Normandy shrugged. "I don't understand why it is such a big deal anyway. It's just a letter. You can rewrite it."

"No, no, no. I can't rewrite that letter. It's not your normal letter."

"Looked pretty normal to me…"

"It's not. I wrote it during junior year. It was like, a collection of memories. It can't be rewritten. And no one else can find it."

"Why's that?"

"Because it mentions… people."

"People?" Normandy grinned, suddenly understanding. "People… as in my brother?"

"Among many others, yes."

"What does this letter say about my brother?" Normandy crossed her arms across her chest, biting her lip.

"Um. Not very nice stuff. Let me leave it at that," Rory pleaded, dropping to her knees to look under a bookcase.

"Okay, okay. But it isn't going to be under there." Normandy's gaze turned to the door, and within a minute, Emilie appeared there. 

"Normandy, phone for you," she said, dangling the phone from her tiny hand.

Normandy waited until she'd reached her room to talk. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Ethan responded. "I just wanted to talk. Is your vidphone on?"

"No…" Normandy stood up from where she'd been sitting on her bed, crossing her room to turn it on. "Now it is."

"Okay, cool. Let me change my settings…"

Normandy watched the screen as the pixels came together to form an image of Ethan's face. "That's better."

"I love this thing."

Normandy smiled. Ethan had just gotten his installed a couple months ago for his ninth birthday, and he'd often call just to use it. "I don't have a lot of time."

"That's cool. Have you started the Science project yet?"

"No…"

"Do you want to be in my group? Me and Anna are working together, but a group can have four people, so I was thinking us and you and Scott."

"Um, sure. Do you have any ideas for it?"

"Not yet." Ethan sighed. "What are you being for Halloween?"

"I'm not sure. I was thinking _Mona Lisa_."

"You're going to be a painting?" Ethan furrowed his brow. "How are you going to be that?"

"Fairly easily. I think I can make the costume myself, too." She paused. "Emilie's coming with me, though."

"That's cool. What's she going to be?"

"I don't know. A princess probably."

"Wasn't she…"

"That last year. Yep." Normandy leaned back on her bed. 

"Your birthday's coming up," Ethan said suddenly.

"That it is…"

"Are your parents coming home? They haven't been home in a while? It's been like, over a month, hasn't it?"

"Almost two. And I'm not sure." Normandy glanced at her calendar. It was October 24th, and her birthday was just over two weeks away. "I guess I'll now by whether or not there's a delivery on the 6th."

Ethan frowned. "Your birthday's the 8th."

Normandy grinned. "Try telling them that."

__

"I don't need to be a voyeur when you're all over a guy who, by the way, will be history by Friday."

Jordan frowned, flipping over in the bed to look at Mike. "Hey."

Mike grinned, kissing her lightly. "We really have to stop making a habit out of this."

"Out of what?" Jordan asked, confused.

"Making love in the middle of the afternoon. I have a class in half an hour."  


"Um, yeah, about that…" Jordan sat up, pulling the sheet with her.

"I don't have to go to the class, Jordan. I can stay here with you. We can take a nice shower, and go out to dinner, and…"

__

"I don't need to be a voyeur when you're all over a guy who, by the way, will be history by Friday."

Jordan winced as she once again recalled Normandy's statement. "I want to break up," she said quickly.

Mike stopped in the middle of whatever he'd been saying, his eyes widening. "You want to… break up?"

"Yes." Jordan bit her lip, knowing what was coming.

"What the hell did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, it's not you…"

"I don't need that line, Jordan. Just tell me… am I bad at it?"

It was all she could do to hold back a laugh. Bad at_ it? _What? Were they back in 6th grade?

"No, it's not that. I just… I don't want to see you anymore."

"Oh, um, okay. I'll leave."

"Yeah. I'm going to go shower… have a nice life, Mike." She dropped the sheet and headed toward the shower, Normandy's words repeating in her mind.

__

"You're all over a guy who, by the way, will be history by Friday."

It was almost 11:30, and Emilie still couldn't fall asleep. She crawled out of her bed and crossed the room to her desk. Sitting down in the desk chair, she opened a drawer and pulled out a few pieces of paper, crinkled and worn with age.

Flipping on her desk light, she placed her finger against the first word, reading along slowly with the flowing words. She paused when she reached a point about halfway down the letter.

__

Tonight… I wasn't sure what to think. I'm happy with him, I know that. But for a second, I almost wished he wasn't there. I almost wished I could've gotten that goodbye kiss. I know it's stupid because I'm completely in love with Dean, and I hate him, _but I did think it. Not for long, but the thought did cross my mind. Well, it's too late now._

__

So this is a mistake / Try to find a better way / You were never fond of anything I said / Can we begin again?  



	11. Halloween

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Halloween

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Amelie's sick and it's Halloween.

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Betty. Just don't screw up again.

Feedback is always appreciated. Well, you know the deal. I won't hold back updates, but I love reviews.

Amelie didn't remember ever feeling this miserable. She reached her hand out to find the tissues, patting around, not wanting to take her eyes off the television. She found them and smiled at the slight victory, blowing her nose.

She was cuddled up on Allison's couch, still in her pajamas and a robe. When she'd awoken that morning, her nose had felt stuffy but she'd hoped the feeling would disappear after a warm shower. Since the shower her cold had come on full force, her nose completely blocked up and a pounding headache, which fortunately she'd been able to lessen with Advil.

__

Sliver of Moonlight was on Lifetime. She couldn't believe she'd sunken to a level where she sat around and indulged in a Lifetime movie, although she had to admit it was pretty interesting.

"Ames."

Amelie turned at Allison's voice, much to loud for her to deal with right now. "What?" she asked groggily.

"I have to go out. I have a dinner meeting with my new boss, so I don't know what time I'll be back. I should be back by 6, which is when Max is coming by. But just in case I'm not, could you tell him that I'd be home soon?"

  
Amelie glanced at her robe. "You want me to entertain your crush?"

"He's not a crush, Ames," Allison scolded, brushing imaginary dust from her sweater. "Do I look okay?"

"For the boss or for Max?"

"Both."

"Yeah, sure," Amelie answered noncommittally, turning back to the television.

Allison rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks."

Amelie listened as Allison left, tucking herself back into the corner of the couch.

There was a reason Rory hadn't been one to play with her dolls' hair when she was little. She stared at Emilie's expertly done twist, unsure what to do.

"Hon, if you can tell me what part's falling apart, I might be able to fix it quicker."

Emilie's hand reached up as she patted the back of her head. "Right in here, Rory."

"Thanks." Rory took one of the bobby pins she'd been holding between her teeth and inserted it into Emilie's hair. "Your costume is beautiful, Emilie."

"Thank you." Emilie glanced down at her medieval styled pink gown with its puffy skirt. 

What Rory's gaze was stuck on was the tiara. She'd wanted one like it when she was little, but her mom hadn't had enough money. And of course, the one Rory had wanted wasn't real either.

Emilie's tiara was made from a delicate array of pearls and diamonds, sitting proudly on the crown of her blonde head. 

Her shoes matched it, of course, and Rory was sure she'd never seen such an expensive Halloween costume.

"Where's Normandy?" Emilie asked, breaking through Rory's thoughts.

"She's still upstairs changing."

"Oh. You'll love Normandy's costume."

"You've seen it?" Normandy hadn't let Rory see the costume, so she was a bit surprised that Emilie had seen it.

"Well, no. But Normandy always makes her own costumes. And they're always pretty."

"What's the girl's name who's upstairs with Normandy again?"

"Anna." Emilie wrinkled her nose. "I don't like her."

"Why not?"

"She's too serious."

In comparison to Normandy? Rory winced. It was depressing to see eight year olds as serious as Normandy and Anna.

The knocking wouldn't go away. Amelie groaned, turning over to glance at the clock. Quarter past six. Must be Max.

"Argh," she whimpered, sitting up and slipping her slippers on. "Coming," she called weakly, sneezing right after.

The knocking continued. She scurried over to the door, wanting the knocking to stop. "One second," she said, unlocking the deadbolt and swinging the door open.

"Amelie, right?" Max frowned. "You look like hell."

Amelie frowned. "And you have a way with words." Glancing down at her slippers, she admitted there was no way around it. "Come in," she said, stepping to the side.

"Are you okay?" Max asked, stepping inside.

Amelie looked in the hallway mirror. Her skin was flushed with a fever, there were dark circles under her eyes, and her nose was red. "Do I look okay?"

"My mom taught me never to answer that question," Max said, holding his hands up in defeat.

  
Amelie laughed in spite of herself. "Allison said she'd be home soon."

"That's good. You go sit back down." Max bit his lip. "Do you want anything? I make some mean chicken noodle soup."

"From the package?"

"No. I can't believe you assumed that!" Max smiled. "From the can. The can's way better."

Amelie smiled, relaxing back onto the couch. Maybe Max wasn't so bad… at least not in comparison to some of Allison's exes.

"Let me find you something a little whiter. You know, like one of those long hospital johnnies."

"I'm fine, Normandy," Anna said, leaning against Normandy's bed. "I told you. It's not that big of a deal anyway."

"Maybe not to you. But Ethan loves trick-or-treating and it's just one day out of the year, Anna."

"Fine. So who am I going as?"

"Samara. From The Ring."

"Okay." Anna glanced down at her black slacks and matching turtleneck. "Find me something to wear."

Normandy nodded. "Yeah. One minute." Normandy wiped a yellow powder across her skin, making it appear sallow. "Let me finish the makeup first."

"Am I late?" Tristan asked, rushing through the front door.

"No. They're still here. Emilie went upstairs to find her wand, and Normandy and Anna are almost ready."

"Anna's here?" Tristan paused, setting his briefcase down on the floor. "Ech."

"She's nine years old. Why does everyone have that response?" Rory asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"She's too serious." Tristan shrugged. "I've never known any other nine year old to remind me of death so much."

"What?"

Tristan sighed. "Anna's mom died when she was five. Ever since, she acts like death follows her around. Quoting Emily Dickinson and stuff. It's creepy." Tristan shook his head. "I don't want Normandy hanging out with her."

"They're best friends."

"Yeah, I know." Tristan sighed. "Oh well. I told them I'd take them out at seven. Do you want to come?"

Rory paused. "Sure…"

"This is good," Amelie said, taking a spoonful of the soup into her mouth.

Max smiled, leaning back on the couch. "I told you it would be." He glanced at the television. "What are you watching?"

Amelie shrugged, switching it off with the remote. "I'm not sure. I fell asleep."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I should've been up by now anyway."

Max paused. "Why don't you trust me with Allison?"

"She doesn't exactly have a good track record when picking a boyfriend. They're always after one thing."

"…Sex?"

Amelie laughed. "No. I can't believe you just-" She shook her head. "Money."

"You have money?" Max' expression was completely blank.

Amelie nodded. "Rousseau P-"

"Publications. Oh my God. That's you Rousseau?"

Amelie nodded.

"They- _you_ publish my textbooks."

"You're still in school?" Amelie asked.

"No. I'm a sixth grade teacher. I just- wow. I did not know that."

Amelie laughed, pushing a strand of hair from her face. "Well, I guess now you see why I don't always trust Allison's judgment in guys."

Max nodded, glancing at Amelie's left hand. "And that's one hell of a ring. Who are you marrying? Bill Gates? This just gets better and better."

"No." Amelie smiled, looking at her engagement ring. "Tristan DuGrey."

"Come on, come on, lets go," Tristan said, pushing the kids out the door. "You want to leave before all the candy's gone, right?"

"Yeah!" Emilie cheered, grabbing Tristan's hand.

Rory smiled as she watched Tristan tug Emilie to his side and Emilie shriek with glee as Tristan picked her up and spun her around.

"Tristan," Emilie said, laughing, "Stop! You're going to rip my dress!"

"And you make such a beautiful princess," Tristan responded, setting her back on the ground.

Anna glanced at them, an eyebrow raised. "Can we stop with the childish gab and get this over with?"

Tristan glanced at Rory, as if to prove his point. "Sure, Anna. Where are we meeting Ethan and Scott?"

"At Ethan's house."

Tristan laughed, glancing down the street. "That's easy enough."

"I'm so sorry. She should've been home by now." Amelie glanced at the clock then at Max.

"It's not your fault. And she probably just got tied up. It's not a big deal."

"If you want to leave, I can just tell her-"

"No, it's okay. Let me make you some more of my prize-winning soup and you can tell me embarrassing stories about your sister."

Amelie laughed. "Prize-winning?"

"Well, that's what my mother used to call it." Max shrugged. "Are you up for it?"

"Sure." Amelie leaned back on the couch, glancing at Max. "You're different."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Max asked, a slight smile playing on the corner of his lip.

"It's good. I approve. Of you. For Allison." Amelie shook her head. "I don't make much sense when I'm not feeling well."

Max laughed. "We've all been there."

"You guys look… awesome." Ethan shook his head, looking from Normandy to Anna to Emilie. "I need Normandy's help with _my _costume next year."

Normandy scrutinized Ethan's pirate costume, tilting her head to the side. "You should've used eyeliner."

"I should've- what?" Ethan narrowed his eyes. "I'm not gonna use any girly makeup, Normandy. I'm not some fag."

"Hey!" Mrs. Calhoun came to the door, enveloped in a huge robe, arms crossed over her chest. "We don't use words like that, Ethan."

"Whatever, Mom." Ethan rolled his eyes, embarrassed. "Where's Scott? I wanna leave."

"He's in the bathroom, Ethan. Apologize to the girls." Mrs. Calhoun noticed Tristan and Rory and smiled. "Hi Tristan. And you must be…"

"I'm Rory. It's nice to meet you." Rory held out her hand, which Mrs. Calhoun shook friendlily, glancing at Tristan. 

"A friend or yours? Where's Amelie, anyway?"

"Rory's the girls' nanny. Amelie's visiting her sisters. She'll be home next week." Tristan gave Mrs. Calhoun a hug, surprising Rory with his warmth.

"Well tell Amelie I said hi. And it's a pleasure to meet you, Rory." Mrs. Calhoun paused as Scott ran through the doorway. "Well, it looks like you guys are going to have your hands full. Thanks for taking the kids. I don't think I'd be much fun this year."

"What did Ethan's mother mean when she said she wouldn't be much fun?" Rory asked later as she and Tristan stood at the end of a driveway, watching the kids run up to a house.

"Huh?"

"What did Mrs. Calhoun mean? Is she sick?"

Tristan laughed. "No. She's pregnant. Very pregnant, actually. Seven and a half months."

"I didn't notice."

"Huh." Tristan was quiet for a moment as the kids ran on to a nearby house. "Must've been the robe."

"Yeah, I guess so." Rory paused. "Well, where's his father then?"

"Ethan's father died. On Easter, actually. It hasn't been an easy year for the Calhouns."

"Geez. That must've been what Normandy was talking about. She said they were trick-or-treating so Ethan would be happy."

"Probably. It's his dad's birthday. Or it would be."

"And the hits just keep coming." Rory paused, remembering what Tristan had told her about Anna's mother. "Does Normandy have any… _normal_ friends?"

Tristan laughed. "With two parents? Scott does."

"Did that sound bad?"

"Um, yeah." Tristan glanced at Rory. "You do that a lot."

"I do what?"

"Put your foot in your mouth." Tristan smiled. "It's a good thing you're beautiful."


	12. The Birthday Girl

Normandy stared at her reflection in the mirror, her dark eyes glowering. Her parents had returned home this morning, taking over her birthday planning and ordering fancy dishes.

She'd wanted something simple, just to hang out with her best friends for the day. She hadn't wanted caviar or escargot. In fact, she'd been content with Rory's suggestion to buy pizza.

Really, her mother was still quite sick. She should be resting, and instead she was meeting with caterers and party planners. Normandy winced as she heard yelling from downstairs.

Stepping into the hallway, she looked over the railing to see her mother standing in the hallway, arguing with a maid.

Normandy was about to yell down to her when Emilie appeared in the hall, wrapping her arms around her mother's waist.

About a moment later, Rory came up behind Rory, similarly placing a consoling hand on Normandy's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Normandy said, heaving a heavy sigh, "I just wish she'd _stop._"

Rory nodded. "You're concerned about her?" Normandy knew it was more of a statement than a question.

"Partly." Normandy paused. "I like it when Amelie's here, because she always calms my mom down and takes over… A bigger part of it though is that my mom _takes over._" She shook her head. "Although this will sound ungrateful, I am capable of planning my own party."

Rory laughed at the young girl's concerns.

"It's such a pleasure to see you again, Vivian. It's been far too long. And how's Gregory, Jan?"

Tristan looked on as his mother made small talk with Normandy's middle-aged guests. He'd always hated family parties, and especially birthdays. They were another social gathering, and always blew up to the point where the guest of honor was forgotten. These women were not Normandy's friends.

He saw Rory in the corner of his eye as she dodged a persistent businessman. He realized she shared many of Amelie's physical features, especially her bone structure. She wore a loose white dress and was probably dressed more casually than everyone else there. Yet she still looked exquisite with her hair pulled back and her lips painted red.

Tristan shook his head as if to clear the thoughts from his mind. Rory did not look exquisite; she was a high school crush. The only reason he even thought about her was because she was a missed opportunity, and one who had scarred his ego.

He glanced at his watch. Six o'clock. Where was Amelie?

Amelie drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as the traffic edged along, the worst of a jam now over. In the last 45 minutes, she'd only managed to move half a mile, and to make it worse, she couldn't find her cell phone. She hadn't even been able to call Tristan to tell him she'd be late.

A Christmas song came on the radio and she switched the channel, frowning. It was only the beginning of November. It seemed like Christmas started earlier every year.

She smiled as the road cleared just in time for her exit. As she turned off the highway, she heard a ring from somewhere in the car.

She felt around in the backseat, and finally grabbing her coat, pulled out the phone. "Hello?" she answered.

"Hey, Ames!"

Allison. "Hi, Allison. Did I forget something?"

"Nope. I just wanted to see how you were feeling. You left before I got home."

Amelie laughed. "Yeah… somebody didn't come home after their date last night."

"It was amazing, Ames." Allison sighed happily. "He was so perfect, so… gentle."

Amelie crinkled up her nose. "I don't need anymore details, Allison. Thanks. And I am feeling better. My head still hurts a little, but I'm not congested anymore." Amelie paused. "You should ask Max to make his soup for you."

"Soup? I don't _like_ soup, Ames."

Amelie laughed. "Just ask… I have to go, Allison. I'll call you when I get back."

"Oh, no, it's not problem. Really, you haven't missed anything," Tristan assured Amelie over the phone as he sat down on the stairs, bringing his elbows to rest on his lap.

"Okay. I just feel bad. If I'd left earlier or something...or even a bit later." Amelie heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry."

Tristan smiled. "Don't be sorry, Amelie. You don't exactly have control over the driving conditions. I mean, of course you're a goddess, but not even you can control _that._"

"Nice line," Amelie said sarcastically. "Okay. Well, tell Normandy I'm sorry and that I should be there within half an hour."

"No problem." Tristan looked to the right of the stairs, where most of the guests were standing around, talking. "And you aren't really missing anything."

"You look pretty."

Normandy was laying on her bed when she heard him. She looked up slowly. "Thank you," she said, pulling herself up to a cross-legged position.

Ethan sighed, plopping down on the end of her bed. "What's wrong, Norm?" His eyes twinkled with mischief at the nickname.

Normandy glared at him. "Don't call me that. I sound-"

"Like an old man. Sorry, Norm… Andy."

Normandy tried to hold her glare, but the left corner of her mouth curved upwards, giving away the smile forming. "Thanks, Ethan."

She'd known Ethan the longest out of her friends. His dad was- had been- a close friend of her mother's. The two shared a connection and an unspoken language, so Ethan knew just what she was thanking him for.

He sighed, scooting backwards until his back was against the headboard. "You didn't answer my question," he said, guiding her to his side.

Normandy bit her lip, avoiding her best friend's gaze. She didn't like that Ethan always seemed to know what was wrong. "It's nothing. It's just I don't like birthdays, you know? And my mom…"

"Transformed this into the social gathering of the year," Ethan finished.

"Yeah."

"Well, there isn't anything you can do about it right now, Normandy. Except suck it up."

"Hey…" Her tone held a warning, and Ethan remembered the time she'd beat him up when they were five.

"I'm just saying that your mom went through a lot of trouble for you. So do it for her, Normandy."

Normandy considered this. Linda Ashford was not one to irritate, even when she was sick. "Fine," Normandy huffed, slamming her head against the headboard. "Just give me a minute."

Ethan smiled, squeezing Normandy's shoulder.

Amelie winced as she entered the Danvers-Ashford home. Since when was a nine year olds birthday a formal event? She shook her head as she glanced down at her Juicy sweats and matching top.

"Someone else who didn't dress up."

Amelie smiled as Rory walked over. "I think I have you outdone," she said quietly, gesturing to Rory's dress.

"Well, yeah, but… well, compared to everyone else?"

Amelie nodded. "I have some spare dresses upstairs. Do you want to borrow one?"

Rory paused. "I guess. I mean, if that's okay with you."

"Yeah."

"Your clothing's all so beautiful," Rory said, pulling out a green gown.

Amelie smiled. "That's what I wore on my first date with Tristan." Her eyes followed the length of the fabric as she spoke. "That was such a disaster."

"What happened?" Rory asked, putting the dress back.

"We went to a party… the host was a friend of his family, supposedly. It turned out to be the teenage son of a friend of the family. A drunk fifteen year old spilled punch all over my dress, and then, within an hour, it got raided by the police."

Rory laughed. "Seriously? I never would've pictured you guys as the partying type." She paused, realizing how poorly she'd worded that. "Not that you're boring. Just… so put together, you know?"

It was Amelie's turn to laugh. "Put together? We're anything but. There's nothing put together about us. Like, Tristan still acts like a teenager half the time, and our wedding… well, basically nothing's planned." Amelie smiled as she ran a finger over her engagement ring. "Rory, when you fall in love, you'll know he's right for you. And that you can spend the rest of your life with him. Tristan and I only dated for five months before we knew we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together."

Rory was surprised by Amelie's openness, and she liked the other girl for it. Most members of Hartford's elite were reserved and businesslike, so talking to Amelie was refreshing.

"Amelie, you're here."

Normandy's voice interrupted Rory's thoughts and she turned to see the young girl standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Normandy." Amelie smiled at her, gesturing for her to come in. "I need your help choosing a dress."

Normandy raised an eyebrow. "You thought my mom would allow a jeans and T-shirt function inside her house?"

"Stupid, huh?" Amelie placed a hand on Normandy's back, guiding her over to the closet. Rory watched as Amelie spoke to Normandy and Normandy smiled in return, stunned by her new friend's easy way with children. Perhaps Tristan had grown up.

'How does a nine year old's birthday party turned into a ballroom dance,' Tristan wondered as he saw Normandy sitting in a corner with Ethan and Scott.

Almost half an hour ago, his mother had started an impromptu dance by having the domestics move the furniture from the sitting room floor and having the piano player play a waltz.

He smiled as Amelie sat down next to him, placing her small hand in his larger one, gently squeezing it. "Only another hour," she said, staring out at the dance floor.

Tristan smiled, and standing up, pulled Amelie with him. "Would you like to dance, Amelie?"

Amelie smiled, following her fiancé onto the makeshift dance floor. 

Tristan didn't like ballroom dancing. It was too proper for his tastes, and too professional. He pulled Amelie to him and the young couple danced to their own music, oblivious to the people around them. 

"I'm bored," Scott complained, plopping down on the floor and wrapping his arms under his legs. 

Ethan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye from his spot leaning against the wall. "Never would've guessed." His gaze turned to Normandy. "Do you want to open your presents or something?"

From her spot to Ethan's left, Normandy shook her head. "I can't. Not until my mom gives me permission."

"Well, how about you just open mine?"

Normandy considered this. "I guess that would be okay."

Ethan nodded, pulling a small box from his pocket. "My mom helped pick it out," he admitted, shoving it into Normandy's hands.

"I figured," she said as she opened the small box and pulled out a silver charm bracelet. There were already four charms on it. 

Ethan pointed to each. "That's a book. Because, well, you like to read. And that's a pair of ice skates. And that's a musical note. And that's a tennis racket. Remember the time I had to get stitches?"

She did. She held out her wrist and Ethan fiddled with the clasp until he got it to lock. "Thank you."

Scott sighed next to them, clearly bored. "Do you wanna dance or something?" he asked Normandy, starting to get up.

"Okay."

She followed Scott out onto the dance floor, and Ethan stayed in the corner, holding the box as he waited for their return.


	13. Strike Me Blind

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Strike Me Blind

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Amelie and Rory go shopping… Tristan and Rory discuss literature

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Joan, for a belated birthday.

Feedback is always appreciated. You guys know me well enough to know I'd never hold back a chapter over it… err, with the exception of Loz and Joan, lol, but it does make an author more enthused. Plus, I'm the kind of person who will comment on good feedback in an author's note, maybe pimp a fic.

SPECIAL NOTE: I'd like to thank all the readers who have followed this story through it's slow development. I'm very sorry for the delay between chapters. By mid-June, however, I can promise chapters will be much more speedy- maybe even 2 or 3 a week sometimes.

The next day was cold for November. Rory entered the sitting room dressed in an off-white sweater and loose fitting jeans, her Lit book tucked under her arm. She didn't have any classes until 1, so she wanted to get a little studying in.

Amelie was sitting in one of the arm chairs, similarly dressed and curled up reading a paperback. She glanced up when she saw Rory and smiled. "Hey."

"Hey." Rory plopped down in another chair. "What are you reading?"

Amelie turned the cover to face Rory. "_House of Straw_," Amelie blushed. "It's no classic, but I find it interesting."

Rory smiled. "What's it about?"

"A girl with the seemingly charmed life just trying to fit in. I'm a sucker for that kind of thing." Amelie eyed the hardcover on Rory's lap. "So, light reading?"

"No, no, not quite." Rory laughed. "My Lit book. I have an exam in a couple weeks."

Amelie raised an eyebrow. "And you finally have free time and you're going to study?"

"Yeah. Pathetic, huh?"

"No, not at all. Just…" Amelie trailed off. "I had plans with Tristan to go shopping today. But he got called into the office and… Well, what do you think? Want to hit the bookstore and a few others with me? I'd love to get to know you better."

Rory shrugged. "Yeah. Give me a couple minutes, okay?"

Amelie nodded.

"You've never had ice cream at _Aunt Edna's?_ God, what did you grow up on? Ben & Jerry's? It just doesn't compare."

Rory shook her head. "I've never even heard of _Aunt Edna's._ Which in itself, is surprising since my mom prides herself on knowing where all the best eats in Connecticut are."

"That's how my sister is." Amelie gestured across the mall parking lot to a small building. "It's right over there. You _have_ to try it."

Rory laughed. "Yeah, sure. What's the best kind?" she asked as she fell into step next to Amelie.

"Oh, _God,_ I don't know. They're all really good. I love the chocolate but Tristan says the vanilla's better."

"Then chocolate it is." They walked in silence for a moment. "How was your trip?" Rory asked.

Amelie smiled. "It was nice. I like spending time with my sisters. Although I worry about Allison sometimes."

"Why?" Rory asked as they reached the door.

"She's impulsive. For example, she's now dating the guy who she crashed into," Amelie explained, swinging the door open. "Welcome to heaven on earth."

"What time is it?"

Amelie glanced at her watch. "Um, almost 4:30. Why?"

"Oh, no. I missed my class. Review started today."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept you so long. It's totally my fault."

"No it's not. Don't worry about it." Rory sighed. "We should probably go back now though."

Amelie shook her head. "Not an option. Mrs. Ashford's probably in high drive right now and it wouldn't be pretty."

"High drive? For what?"

"Christmas. She always plans parties right after another ends. And now, since she doesn't have to worry about Normandy's birthday party, she can start worrying about Christmas. The Ashford Christmas party is the biggest of the year."

"Oh. That must be fun."

Amelie laughed. "No, not really. It's just stressful. I think it ruins Christmas for Normandy and Emilie."

"You know a lot about the Ashfords. How long have you been with Tristan?"

"A while. But our families were friends when we were children."

Rory nodded. "My grandfather does business with his family."

"Oh, really?" Amelie leaned forward. "Tristan told me you went to Chilton together, but he didn't mention any family connections."

"Tristan and I… didn't exactly get along in high school."

"And it gets interesting!" Amelie smiled. "I know Tristan was a… how should I put it? A royal pain in the ass."

Rory laughed. "Well, he certainly considered himself royalty."

"I'm afraid that still is the case… But he's worth it, I swear." Amelie smiled. "Under all the bravado, he's really sweet."

"I know." Rory froze, surprised she'd said that.

"And he's a good kisser." Amelie's smile turned to a devilish grin.

_I know._ "I wouldn't know."

Later that day, everyone was gathered in the dining room when Tristan came home.

"All my favorite women in one room. What did I do to get so lucky?"

"Came home during dinner," Normandy said dryly.

"Quite the standup routine, Normandy," Tristan laughed. Turning to Amelie, he added, "I tried to call you earlier but your cell was off. Where were you?"

"Rory and I went shopping."

"Oh." Tristan's gaze flickered over Rory's. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah. Can you believe she's never had ice cream at _Aunt Edna's._"

"No, not really." Tristan yawned. "I already ate so I'm going to go upstairs."

"Okay."

Rory entered the sitting room later that night to grab her Lit book she'd left there earlier, only to find Tristan stretched out on a couch, reading from the text.

"What are you doing?"

Tristan looked up. "Oh, hey Rory," he said calmly, as if he hadn't heard her question.

"Hey… Why do you have my book?"

"I was reading from it. It's weird to think I could have this book right now if… other things hadn't delayed my college plans."

That was vague enough. Rory sat down at the end of the couch. "Yeah, theoretically. Would you have gone to Yale?"

"I got in," Tristan responded. It wasn't really an answer.

"Oh." Rory snatched the book back and Tristan winced.

"Quick response," he commented. "My reflexes couldn't have controlled that."

Rory grinned, glancing down at the page he'd been reading. The smile fell from her face. "_Romeo and Juliet?_"

"Would you believe I never even read it during high school?"

"Yes."

Tristan laughed. "Fair enough… It's quite interesting, actually. At least the beginning. Did you know that Romeo was quite the player, the handsome guy who could have any girl he wanted?"

"Yes."

Tristan paused, his eyes meeting Rory's. "Except Juliet."

His gaze was too intense and she averted her eyes. "He could have Juliet."

"There wasn't time, really. The end came too soon."

Rory raised her eyes to find his hadn't moved. "That's relative. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. They had to die to be together, Tristan."

"It was crossed communication."

Before Rory could reply, Emilie entered the room. "Could someone help me with my math homework?"

Rory stood up. "Yeah. I'll be right in."

"No, Rory. I can take care of her. You go and study." Tristan got up and followed Emilie from the room. Rory sat back down and started to read her text.

__

_"He that is strucken blind cannot forget_   
_The precious treasure of his eyesight lost."_


	14. Playing with Fire

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Playing With Fire

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Thanksgiving and gifts

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;) And the song is Don Harley's "My Thanksgiving."

Author's Note: To Mary Kate, because I know how freaked out she is. Also, I've been having trouble with this site and separating sections. This is why the last few chapters may have seemed strangely inconsistent. For now, sections will be separated with '

Feedback is always appreciated. You guys know me well enough to know I'd never hold back a chapter over it… err, with the exception of Loz and Joan, lol, but it does make an author more enthused. Plus, I'm the kind of person who will comment on good feedback in an author's note, maybe pimp a fic.

SPECIAL NOTE: I'd like to thank all the readers who have followed this story through it's slow development. I'm very sorry for the delay between chapters. By mid-June, however, I can promise chapters will be much more speedy- maybe even 2 or 3 a week sometimes.

* * *

And I don't mind saying that I still love it all / I wallowed in the springtime / Now I'm welcoming the fall / For every moment of joy

* * *

It was going to be a cold winter. Even with the heat all the way up in her Prius, Rory was still shivering, and it was only November. She was parked outside of Chilton Elementary, waiting for Normandy and Emilie to be released for Thanksgiving break.

They were to be released at noon. Rory glanced at the digital clock. 11:56. Four more minutes of the cold. She picked up her cell phone, dialing her mother's phone number.

"Hey!" Lorelai answered breathlessly on the eighth ring.

Rory smiled at her mother's voice. "Where was the phone? Under the couch?"

"No, in a cabinet. Hey, Rory."

"Hi, Mom. What's going on?"

"Luke's coming over tonight with the turkey, and he's going to show me how to cook it. Are you still coming tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I think so." Rory paused as the bell rang and children started filtering out of Chilton Elementary. "I probably won't be there until later, though."

"That's fine, Ror. I'm just happy you can make it."

"I wouldn't miss it. I can't wait to see you."

"I can't wait to see you either. There's tons of food and since Luke's helping, it will actually be edible. I promise you're going to lo-"

There was a knock on the car window and Rory's gasp interrupted Lorelai.

"Everything okay, Rory?"

Rory looked out the window to see Normandy standing outside impatiently, Emilie right behind her. "Yeah, yeah, it was just Normandy." Twisting in her seat, she unlocked the back door for the girls.

"Who are you talking to?" Emilie asked as she climbed in.

"My mom. You want to say hi?" Rory held out the phone to the small blonde.

"Hi," Emilie said, taking the phone and twirling a strand of her hair.

Rory watched her as Emilie listened to Lorelai's response. "Yes. I can't wait! My mommy's staying home tomorrow… Nooooo. Here's Rory." Emilie handed the phone back to Rory.

"Mom, I have to go. See you tomorrow."

'

"So what does your family usually do for Thanksgiving?" Rory asked as she drove the girls home.

Normandy sighed loudly. "Our mother makes a huge deal out of having a home-cooked meal. Then she calls the caterer and has Corina work with the caterers. There's ridiculously fancy turkey that's basted in, well, I don't know what. This ridiculously sweet stuff that probably has a GI of about 80."

Emilie pouted. "Normandy's never happy. The food's really good, Rory. Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

Rory smiled. "I'm going to go home and visit my mom. I'll be right back afterwards though."

Emilie leaned forward and tugged at Rory's right arm. "Pinky swear?"

Rory smiled, extending her hand and grasping Emilie's little finger with her own. "Pinky swear."

Emilie grinned.

'

"My sister, Allison, is coming down tonight, with her boyfriend, Max. You'll be able to meet them before you go home, right?"

Rory nodded to Amelie. "Yeah, I'm not leaving until tomorrow morning."

Amelie settled back against Rory's headboard, drawing her knees to her chest. "It's great to have a friend here. This house gets so lonely when Tristan's not home. So… cold, you know?"

Rory nodded. "As a family, they can be pretty distant. I've noticed."

"My family was never so… disconnected. My sisters and I were always together." Amelie smiled. "Fighting, most of the time, but close."

"My mom and I have always been really close. She's like a sister to me."

"Who's like a sister to you?"

Both women turned toward the door. Tristan was leaning against the doorframe, his hands resting behind his back.

"My mother," Rory responded.

Tristan nodded and turned to Amelie. "Your sister's on the phone. Something about being lost."

"Oh no." Amelie got up quickly, brushing past Tristan as she exited the room.

Rory looked up at Tristan to find his gaze already on her. "What?"

"Nothing," Tristan shook his head, taking a step into the room. "When are you leaving?"

"I want to surprise my mom and leave tonight. If that's okay with your family."

"Yeah, sure, no problem." Tristan took another step toward her.

Rory frowned. "Is that all?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. My dad has this tradition that everyone makes something for someone on Thanksgiving- nothing store bought, you know, but something you _make_. To show the people around you you care."

"That's sweet."

Tristan ran a hand through his hair, and Rory thought he seemed nervous for a second. "So I made you something, too. It's no big deal or anything but…" He extended his hand toward her, holding out a wooden box.

Rory took it gingerly, a bit surprised. "Thanks." She started to open it, but Tristan laid his hand on top of hers quickly. "No, that's the other part of the tradition. If you open it in front of me, you'll feel obligated to say something. Thanksgiving's supposed to be about giving."

"Um, okay?" Rory glanced down at his hand, still resting on top of hers.

"Right," he said, pulling his hand away suddenly. "So I'll see you in a few days."

Rory watched in confusion as Tristan disappeared from the room, then set the box down with her luggage.

'

It was 6:30 when Allison and Max arrived. Amelie greeted them eagerly, throwing her arms around both of them. Rory and Tristan stood off to the side, watching the sisters reconnect.

"You'd think they haven't seen each other in years," Tristan commented.

"Two weeks is the same thing when it's someone you're close to."

"Yeah, I guess so."

They both quieted as Allison spoke up. "Max, you haven't met Amelie's fiancé yet. Here, we have to introduce you two. I'm sure you'll get along."

Tristan smirked at Rory. "I do believe I'm being summoned."

Rory laughed quietly as Tristan walked away. As Amelie introduced the two, Allison came over to Rory. "Who are you?"

"I'm Rory, the girls' nanny… governess."

"Oh, right! Amelie's mentioned you. I guess you two have become friends? I'm Allison."

"I know. It's nice to meet you."

"That's Max," Allison added, gesturing over to her boyfriend. "Isn't he the cutest?"

Rory laughed. "He's cute," she allowed.

"Come on, you should come, like, rejoin the group!" Allison grabbed Rory's hand and pulled her toward the others. "Max, Max! This is Rory. Even she thinks you're cute."

Tristan raised an eyebrow at Rory and she laughed uncomfortably, bending her head to try to hide her reddening cheeks. "Hi."

Max laughed. "Hey."

"I'm, uh, Rory Gilmore. I watch Tristan's sisters."

"And she's my friend," Amelie added, bumping her shoulder against Rory's. "Right?"

"Uh, yeah." Rory looked at Amelie. "I should probably go now. I want to get to my mom's before 8:00."

Amelie nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Okay. Just say bye to the girls first, or they'll never forgive you."

Rory smiled. "Thanks for the tip."

'

Rory stood outside her childhood home in Stars Hollow anxiously, waiting for her mother to come to the door. She was starting to take after her mother. She'd packed too much to carry, so she'd had to set her luggage down next to her. She knocked again.

"Coming," she heard from inside the house, and a moment later heard her mother unlocking the door.

Lorelai froze, a huge smile breaking out across her face. "Rory!" She enveloped Rory in a hug. "I thought you weren't coming home until tomorrow."

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, uh, yeah, you did." Lorelai smiled. "It's so great to have you home. Here, come in."

As Rory grabbed her suitcases, she was surprised by a voice upstairs. "Lorelai, who's here?"

Rory's eyes widened. "Is that Luke?" she asked her mother quietly.

Lorelai nodded as Luke came down the stairs. Rory's eyes widened as she looked between Luke and her mother. Luke's shirt was buttoned wrong. Her mother's hair was a mess, and half of her T-shirt was tucked into her sweatpants. "Well, um, I think I might be the most surprised."

'

When Rory woke up the next morning, the kitchen was full of townies. Babette was trying to take over Luke's cooking, Morey was eating pie, Miss Patty was hitting on a teenager, and Kirk and a very pregnant Lulu were making out in a corner.

Rory scanned the room for her mother and found her arguing with Taylor by the door. "Mom?"

"Oh, Rory, thank god. Can you tell Taylor there isn't an 11 o'clock sound violation?"

Very seriously, Rory responded, "Taylor, there isn't an 11 o'clock sound violation."

"Thanks, Hon. What's going on?"

"Um, that's what I wanted to ask you."

"Oh, well, Babette came over, and when she saw that we hadn't started the turkey, she called in the emergency crew."

"The turkey had been started," Luke complained from across the room. Babette took the chance to steal a spatula, which Luke tugged from her hand. "I work at a diner, Babette. I know how to cook."

Rory raised an eyebrow. "Um, since everything's all set, I'll be right back. I just want to call the girls and wish them a Happy Thanksgiving."

'

Rory tapped her fingernails impatiently against the desk as the phone rang. Finally, someone picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hey, Tristan. It's Rory. I just wanted to call to wish the girls a Happy Thanksgiving."

"Oh, that's nice. I'll get them for you in just a second."

"Thanks." She could hear him getting up.

"So, have you opened my gift yet?"

She'd forgotten all about it. "No. I haven't had a chance. I'll open it after I say hi to the girls. How's your day so far?"

"My mother's freaking out because the caterers are late."

Rory laughed.

Tristan cleared his throat and Rory heard him say something to the girls. "Here, Rory. I'm going to give the phone to Normandy now."

Rory waited a minute. "Hey, Normandy."

"Hello."

"Are you having fun?"

"My mom's making people think she's a manic-depressive, Tristan seems like he found a secret stash of some kind of drug, and Allison is possibly the loudest person I've ever met. I'm having a blast."

Rory laughed. "Well, I hope your day gets better. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Thanks." Normandy paused. "Do you want to talk to Emilie?"

"Yeah, sure."

'

She didn't open Tristan's gift until she'd tucked herself away in her room, away from the noise and the bustling activity of the day.

Sitting cross-legged on her old bed, she opened the box and looked inside. A thin blue bow held together a rolled up piece of parchment paper. She picked up the roll and slid the bow off carefully.

Rory unrolled the paper on her bed, stunned by what she saw. He'd painted her.

It was a gorgeous 11x16 oil painting. There was amazing detail in her face, from her sculpted cheekbones to her midnight blue eyes.

She ran her finger over her painted cheekbones, a soft smile creeping to her face.

* * *

Every hour of fear / For every winding road that brought me here / For every breath, for every day of living / This is my Thanksgiving

* * *


	15. Roots of Love

Author: Summer  
Title: Drain the Glass  
Rating: PG-13, for now  
Chapter Title: Roots of Love  
Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…  
Chapter Summary: Rory returns to work, has a run-in with Tristan, and Amelie visits Max  
Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;) And the song is David Gray's "Roots of Love."  
Author's Note: To Joan. Because we never seem to have time to talk anymore.  
SPECIAL NOTE: The chapters should start flowing quickly now. Thanks for being patient.

.

* * *

If the silence doesn't kill it / Then illusion will / Well we're staring at the sky

* * *

.  
When they were dating, Dean had always told Rory the only thing worse than returning to work on a Monday was returning to work after a vacation. Acting as governess to the Danvers children was the first real job she'd held, but Rory couldn't help but agree.

But it wasn't the job itself Rory was dreading. As she paced nervously in her room in the mansion, every creak seemed to send a jolt through her nerves.

Would he be the first to see her? Rory took a deep breath, trying to reassure herself she was overreacting. There was no reason to feel like this. It was just a painting. It wasn't a betrayal of her new friend, or anything more significant than oil on paper. It was _just_ a painting.

Rory jumped as her door creaked open, spinning around so quickly she got lightheaded.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

Amelie. Perhaps Tristan wasn't the worst possibility. "Oh. Hi Amelie. No, don't worry about it. You didn't. I was just-" She babbled nonsensically.

Amelie smiled. "Sorry, again." Amelie came further into the room and perched on the end of Rory's bed. "How'd your Thanksgiving go?"

"It was nice. I had a great time with my mom."

"That's good." Amelie glanced at Rory's alarm clock. "Emilie has to be picked up from a dance class in like, half an hour. I'd told her I'd get her but… something came up. Would you mind?"

"Sure, no problem. But why isn't she in school?"

"The teacher's going away so it's going to be the last group practice before the production. There's a paper on the table with the directions. Hartford's Children Ballet. You can't really miss it."

"Okay."

"Oh, and Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"You and Tristan… I like that you're trying. I noticed a tension between you after you realized you went to high school together, and… well, I appreciate it."

Rory's smile faltered. "Thanks."

.

With her curly blonde locks and pink tutu, Emilie was the epitome of childhood innocence. "I thought Amelie was supposed to get me," she said when she reached Rory's side, lugging a gym bag half her size behind her.

Rory smiled, picking the gym bag up off the floor. "She had something else to do, and I wanted to see you anyway." Rory paused as Emilie grabbed her hand. "How was your class?"

"It was good. I kept doing the jumps wrong though, and messing up my sur le cou-de-pied."

"When I was little, I only took ballet for a little while and I was horrible at it. What's a sur le cou-de-pied?"

"I had to land my jump, and rest my other foot against the calf of my working leg."

"Oh." Reaching her car, Rory swung the passenger's side door open for Emilie and helped her get in. Throwing the bag in the backseat, she added, "You have to be very graceful to do ballet. I'm not graceful."

Emilie giggled. "That's what Normandy told my mom when she wanted to quit."

"Normandy took ballet?"

"Normandy's done everything. Ballet, jazz, flute, clarinet, piano, painting." Emilie's eyes shone with pride as she discussed her big sister. "She always stops though."

.

"I don't understand the logic behind such controlled herding," Normandy said as she completed the fifth jogging component of her gym class's walk-jog cycle.

Ethan groaned. "Can you stop comparing us to cows?"

"I feel about as in shape as one," Normandy pointed out, rolling her head to stretch her neck muscles as she walked.

"The whole class should be done away with," Anna added solemnly from behind the two as she caught up.

Ethan scowled, but chose not to respond. "How was your mom over the break?" Ethan asked Normandy in an abrupt topic change.

"She locked herself in her room on Friday with another migraine. Came out mid-Saturday."

"Geez. And I thought my Thanksgiving was bad."

"What happened?"

"Mom's on bed rest, so we just kind of sat around all day. And then she was crying and-"

"Ethan," Normandy said seriously, looking him in the eye. "My brother's offered. If you and your mom want, you can stay with us until the baby's born."

"No, we'll be fine. It's not too much longer now anyway, just a few more weeks. I can take care of her."

Normandy sighed. "Okay." The whistle blew and Normandy rolled her eyes as the class started to jog again. "Maybe a horse analogy would be more appropriate."

"Walk, trot, canter, gallop," Ethan nodded.

.

He was due back at work… fifteen minutes ago. Tristan hurried toward his study, unable to care he was making a lot of noise. "Just find the paper, find the paper," he muttered, opening the door and rushing in.

"It has to be here somewhere," he added to no one, pulling open a drawer. "Find the paper, find the paper."

It wasn't there. He swore under his breath, his eyes falling on the clock. He had a consultation at 3:00, and it was almost 2:30 now. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

Tristan's head snapped up and he found Rory standing at the door, Emilie at her side. "Have you seen my paper?" he asked. Upon her blank look, he added quickly, "Um. It's a consultation form. Filed by a Julie Hanlon. Have you seen it?"

Rory shook her head, nudging Emilie. "I'll meet you in your room, Em," she said to the girl. Once Emilie had left, she entered his study hesitantly. "Do you need help looking?"

Tristan frowned at her tone, his eyes swiping over her. She looked nervous. "Uh, yeah, sure." He scratched his neck, holding her gaze. "Is something wrong?" he ventured.

Rory looked away. "No. Not at all. I just, uh, wanted to thank you for… the gift."

Of course. The painting. It hadn't been an appropriate gift; he'd realized that too late. "Oh, uh. Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about it." He glanced at the clock again. He wouldn't make the meeting anyway. "I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Rory shook her head. "Don't be sorry. It was really good, Tristan. I didn't know you painted."

His lip curved up in a modest smile. "Only on the side. I don't paint much, anymore."

Rory nodded, picking up a handful of papers. "Why not?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the papers.

He looked at her. "I haven't been, uh, very motivated to." As soon as the words were out, he realized he should've phrased it differently.

"Oh," she said, her eyes flitting over his face before quickly glancing away. "I-uh, I should go. I promised Emilie I'd read her a book."

"Yeah. I have to get going anyway."

He reached for the papers in her hand, just as she started to flip through them. As his hand touched her arm, he felt her tense. She raised her eyes slowly, and Tristan studied her. Her eyes were wide, lips slightly parted.

Almost unconsciously, he started to raise his hand to her face.

"Tristan…" she said softly, dropping her gaze.

"What?" he asked, brushing her cheek with his thumb.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her lips. Her eyes searched his, unsure of what to do. She blinked, and the moment was over. "I- I think you were looking for this," she said, her voice shaky, taking a step back and holding out a sheet of paper.

He'd barely taken the papers when she rushed from the room. He glanced down at the one she'd singled out. _Petitioner: Julie Hanlon.  
_

_.  
_

Room 126. This was it. Amelie raised her hand to knock, but paused in mid-air. She knocked quickly, before she had a chance to chicken out again.

With her hand still resting against the door, she debated running for a second. Instead, she let her gaze drift to the diamond on her ring finger, and her mind drift to Tristan.

Things had already been set in motion. _He'd_ already set everything in motion. There was no turning back now. She couldn't.

She heard a thud from deep inside the room, followed closely by a, "Coming."

She shifted from one foot to the other, her brain mapping out the possible escapes. There weren't any.

Did she really want to do this? It didn't feel right, at least not morally. She bit her lip, about to run.

Then, the door swung open and she was greeted by a huge grin… and a bare chest. "Amelie! Come on in."

"Hi Max."

* * *

And there's teardrops in the treetops / The wind is whistling through the mountain's teeth / A song for every wounded dove

* * *


	16. Girls Keep On

Author: Summer  
Title: Drain the Glass  
Rating: PG-13, for now  
Chapter Title: Girls Keep On  
Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…  
Chapter Summary: Rory connects with Mrs. Ashford, Amelie goes to Max, Tristan and Rory clarify things  
Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's _One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past_. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;) And the song is Lauren Hart's "Girls Keep On."  
Author's Note: To Loz. Because she's not even a trory, and she still reads. The sign of a true friend.  
.  
.  
.

* * *

__

It isn't over yet or haven't you heard / The perfect end that I should have the last word / I'm always trying to keep a face that's brave / Right before the moment that I first begin to cave

* * *

Max stepped to the side to allow Amelie in, but she seemed frozen to the floor, her eyes wide and lips pressed thin.

"Come in," he repeated uneasily, gesturing for her to enter.

Amelie nodded and stepped past him. "This is nice."

Max raised an eyebrow. "It's a hotel room."

"Yeah. Um, for a hotel room, I mean." Her eyes scanned the room before settling on the bed. "Uh, you're probably wondering what I'm doing here."

That was the understatement of the century. It wasn't every day a beautiful woman- his girlfriend's _sister_- randomly showed up. "Yeah."

He glanced at her. She'd sat down on the edge of his bed and her gaze had fallen to her hands. She wasn't talking. "Uh, would you like something to drink? Pepsi? Water? Wine?"

She looked up and offered a small smile. "Water would be fine."

Max walked silently to the fridge and pulled out a Dasani water bottle. "I'm sorry. I don't have any fancy mineral waters or anything."

"This is fine," she murmured, twisting off the cap. She took a sip, then looked at him.

"So, uh, do you want to tell me what you're doing here?" Max asked gently, sitting down next to her on the bed.

Amelie nodded, shrugging out of her jacket. She pursed her lips, glancing down at her engagement ring. "Yeah," she whispered, pulling the ring off her finger and handing it to him. She met his gaze, the vulnerability gone. "I do."  
.  
.

If Rory had had any doubts after Amelie's description of Mrs. Ashford in party planning mode, they'd been dispelled today. Rory had been stunned when Mrs. Ashford asked for her input after dinner, and even more surprised to learn just _how_ big the Danvers-Ashford Christmas party would be. They were expecting well over 800 throughout the night.

"Rory?"

The older woman's voice jerked Rory from her thoughts. "Do you need help, Mrs. Ashford?" She really wasn't sure if Mrs. Ashford was aware that her job entailed watching the girls- not planning parties.

"Well, I'd love to have your advice here. Each year, we put a huge tree in the foyer, so when the guests arrive it's the first thing they see. It's about fifty feet tall, and all the lights are white. It's classier that way."

"Oh."

"But do you think it should go in the left corner or closer to the middle of the room?"

"Oh, wow, I'm not sure." Rory paused. "Wouldn't it get in the guests' way if it were in the middle of the room?"

"I guess you make a good point."

Mrs. Ashford narrowed her eyes as she studied Rory, making the latter squirm. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

The woman let out a light laugh. "I just realized you've been working for my family- helping to raise my girls- for a couple months now, and I've never had a real conversation with you. And I was thinking, I have an hour before the caterer shows up with samples. Would you like to go out for coffee with me?"

From what Rory had heard of Mrs. Ashford, this wasn't very characteristic of the woman, and it took her by surprise. "Okay?"

It was more a question than a statement, but Mrs. Ashford clapped her hands together all the same. "Excellent."  
.  
.

His socks didn't match. He hadn't noticed that when he'd gotten dressed this morning, but now, with his feet in front of him on the desk, it was pretty hard to miss. One was black and the other was navy.

"Mr. DuGrey?" Joan called, opening his office door.

Tristan pulled his feet off the desk and sat up guiltily. "Oh, hey Joan. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Tristan?"

She nodded. "As your secretary, it's probably inappropriate for me to tell you this, Mr.…Tristan. But your socks don't match."

He laughed. So she'd seen. "I was just thinking about that, actually." His eyes fell to the folder she had in her hand. "What's that?"

Joan followed his gaze to the folder and smiled. "I thought you might want to see this. It's the paternity results for Hannah Wilson's baby."

Hannah Wilson. Tristan raised an eyebrow. "She's the woman we brought to the hospital, right?"

Joan nodded. "Yeah."

"Well? What were the results?"

A smile broke across Joan's face. "Inconclusive."

"What?" Tristan laughed.

"Well, you see, Ms. Wilson provided DNA samples from five possible fathers. And none turned out to be the father."

"That's… great." His expression said otherwise.

Joan smiled. "Not everyone's the Virgin Mary, Tristan," she said, slipping from the room.

Tristan's eyebrows shot up. What was _that_ supposed to mean?  
.  
.

"So, Rory, tell me a little about yourself."

She hated it when people said that. Still though, the woman was paying her salary. "Well, I'm a student at Yale right now, and I was Jordan's roommate. She's the one who got me this job."

"Oh."

Of course. No more encouragement than a simple 'Oh.' Rory sighed. "I went to Chilton," she volunteered.

Mrs. Ashford lit up. "Oh! Tristan went there. Did you know him?"

"Yes." Rory took a sip of her coffee. "We actually had a few classes together."

"I'm afraid Tristan's father was in charge of his Chilton education, so I didn't really attend any events." Mrs. Ashford absentmindedly stirred her coffee. "Did you date him?"

Talk about a question from left field. Rory raised her eyebrows. "Um, no. Tristan and I… were friends." There was no use trying to explain her relationship with Tristan to his mother.

"Apparently you're in the minority then. Tristan was a very sought after boy."

"Yes."

"I'm so happy he's settling down with Amelie though. A remarkable girl. So sweet."

Rory barely managed not to wince at the mention of her friend. She'd almost kissed Tristan, and that was just earlier that day.

"I was really worried about Tristan for a while there. I wasn't sure he'd settle down. After he left Chilton, it seemed all he did was date common girls."

__

_Common_ girls? Rory raised an eyebrow.

"I told his father that something happened at Chilton. There must've been a girl. Did you know Tristan didn't speak to either of us for weeks after his father sent him to North Carolina? Do you know if there was a girl?"

Rory shook her head, but she didn't think Mrs. Ashford was paying attention to her anyway. "Him choosing Amelie truly soothes my heart, Rory. I'm sure you understand. You are, after all, a Gilmore."  
.  
.

Amelie's ring was a work of art. The diamond was 7.2 karats, and one of a kind, made by a Parisian designer whose name Max had since forgotten. It could probably be sold to a collector for somewhere around $1 million. That was Amelie's pitch.

"Why do you want to do this?" Max asked, running his fingers through Amelie's hair as she lay across his lap.

"I have to," she responded quietly. "It's not right otherwise. I can't keep it, not knowing-"

He frowned. "Not knowing what, Amelie?"

She sighed and got up so she was cross-legged in front of him. "I talked to Allison…"

His girlfriend's name made his eyes drift to the clock, wondering when she'd be back. Hopefully not soon. This wouldn't look good. "What about?"

"She's my little sister, you know? I'd do anything for her," Amelie went on quietly, as if she hadn't heard his question.

"What are you talking about?"

Amelie met his gaze. "My father set each of us up with a trust fund. We could open it when we turned 18. And Allison blew through all the money."

"Amelie, she'll work something out. You don't have to sell your ring."

"You don't get it, Max," she sighed, frustrated.

Max smiled softly. There was something oddly attractive about Amelie when she was aggravated. "What don't I get?"

"Allison has an expensive lifestyle. A _very_ expensive lifestyle. One that if she doesn't get $700,000 in the next two weeks is going to land her homeless. And in debt."

Max swore under his breath. He wasn't quite sure how he'd entered this world, where the rich and the famous squandered more money in a day than he made a month. _God_, he only made $70,000 a year. And his girlfriend had spent 10 times that. "Wow." He didn't know what else to say. "Well, why can't she just ask your dad?"

Amelie shook her head. "He can't know. Ally and my dad… they aren't really on speaking terms." Amelie reached out and placed her hand over Max's. "Please, Max. Do this for me."

He stared at her hand and blinked rapidly, trying to wash away the thoughts that were coming to his mind. Thoughts he shouldn't be having about his girlfriend's sister. Her engaged sister.

She wanted him to sell the ring when he got back, feed Allison the money. And never let her know where it had come from. He didn't want to get wrapped up in this. He could get out of this family, go back to being a normal teacher. He'd taken more sick days this year alone because of the Rousseau girls than he'd taken in the last two years combined. And it was only December.

He opened his mouth to protest, but something in Amelie's eyes stopped him. It wasn't just desperation he saw. There was some kind of understanding. She'd thought about this. But what surprised him the most was that Amelie's eyes seemed to possess some kind of respect for _him._ The guy who less than a month before, she hadn't trusted at all.

"Why me?" he asked, pocketing the ring even as he did so. "Couldn't you have someone else do it- someone you know better than me?"

Amelie bit her lip. "I could." She bit her lip, clearly pondering his question. "I guess it's that I trust you, Max. And I know that if anyone can help Ally, it's you."

"I'll do it," he responded.

A sad smile developed on Amelie's face and she leaned over and hugged him. "Thanks, Max."

But as Max embraced Amelie Rousseau, he couldn't help but wonder if he was dating Allison for who she was- or because she bore a striking resemblance to the one he couldn't have.  
.  
.

Tristan had had nightmares like this. He remembered his days at Chilton, how after his mom had visited he'd have actual nightmares where she sat down with one of his classmates and bonded with them over what an idiot he was.

The only difference, however, was he'd never dreamed it would be Rory.

He took off his shoes and tried to slink silently past the dining room where the two were sitting, but his mother saw him out of the corner of her eye. "Tristan!" she called excitedly, "Come join us! Rory and I were just talking about you."

Tristan raised an eyebrow as he entered the room, looking at Rory. She blushed and looked away immediately. Okay, so maybe this could be fun. "Hey, Mom."

Mrs. Ashford smiled, patting the seat between herself and Rory. "Come join us, Tristan."

He sat down and Rory shifted uncomfortably, looking in the opposite direction. "What have you guys been talking about?"

"Well, you, a little. And Chilton. Rory's going to help me plan the Christmas party? Isn't that marvelous?"

"Um, yeah." Tristan snuck a glance at Rory. She'd looked up, but her gaze was vacant, cast somewhere over his shoulder. "Are you going to stay for it?" he asked her, forcing her to acknowledge his presence.

"I think so. Your mother told me I could invite my family and a few friends, and since we don't really do anything major for Christmas…"

He could see the guilt in his eyes. Suddenly, all his happiness was sucked from him and he wondered guiltily how he could have let himself forget. He looked at his mother nervously, but she was oblivious to the tension, smiling happily at the thought of her upcoming party. "Uh, Mom? Could you give Miss Gilmore and me a moment? Alone?"

Rory's eyes widened in shock as Mrs. Ashford excused herself. "What are you doing?" she whispered hoarsely, glaring at him.

Tristan simply shrugged, standing up so he was looking down upon her. He watched her as she shifted again, biting her lip as she glanced up at him. "I just wanted to… clarify a few things," he said, his voice surprising him by its softness.

"Okay."

He stared at her for a moment, unable to speak. Her blue eyes were clouded, her voice unsure. "I, uh, we-" He paused to collect himself. "What happened earlier shouldn't have." She raised an eyebrow and Tristan realized how obvious that was. "What I mean is, uh, it was just a moment of insanity. Anything that was there, once, it, uh, died in high school." He hated himself for stuttering. "Not that there was anything," he said quickly, reading the look in her eyes. "I just mean, I love Amelie. I don't want-"

"I know," Rory interrupted.

His breath hitched as she stood up to leave, temporarily bringing her mere centimeters away from him. He looked down at her, his mind wandering back to those days in high school where he would've thrived from having Rory this close, this uncomfortable. He could kiss her now.

She stepped away as the thought enveloped him and offered him a smile. "Amelie's my friend, too. And there isn't anything here, right?" she responded, walking out of the room as she spoke.

He watched her go, bringing a hand to his lips. "Yeah."

* * *

Mind over matter would do / If I could just forget that I might be the one to lose

* * *


	17. Snowblind

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Snowblind

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Tristan needs warmer socks, Jordan makes a startling confession, and Normandy attacks Ethan

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Leia. She's listened to my Olympic rants and dealt with my slightly creepy obsession with a certain swimmer. ;)

.

.

.

Normandy first stirred at 6:00 in the morning, odd considering she'd barely slept the night before. She sat up in bed shivering as she glanced around her room. Ethan was sound asleep in the guest bed, his face sideways against the pillow and his mouth slightly open. Her floor was messier than she was used to, but last night she'd collapsed in pure exhaustion before she could clean.

She sighed, turning around on her bed and reaching above her headboard to close the window. She froze as her hands touched the cold glass, her eyes falling on the crystalline white below. She pulled the window closed but all thought of returning to bed had dimmed. "Ethan," she whispered, crossing the room quickly to his bed, "Wake up."

As she gently shoved him, he lazily opened one eye. "Whaaa?" he groaned groggily, trying to roll back over and into sleep.

"Snow," Normandy murmured, shoving him again.

"So?"

Normandy rolled her eyes. "First snowfall. We have to go outside. It's tradition."

Ethan sighed. "Can the tradition wait a few hours?" he asked, glancing at the alarm clock next to his bed, "We only got to sleep three hours ago."

Normandy shook her head, grabbing his arm as she pulled him from the bed. "We can sleep later. C'mon; I'll go get Emilie."

Ethan nodded, watching Normandy as she ran from the room. He shrugged into an oversized sweatshirt, shaking his head. Leave it to Normandy to wake everyone up at 6 AM.

.

.

When Emilie first jumped onto Rory's bed and told her to look out the window, Rory didn't know how to react. But she'd done as the little girl asked, slipping from her bed and fumbling around on the floor for her slippers.

She'd been greeted by swirling white outside her window as the dusty snow fell to the ground, and her mind automatically went to her mother, 30 miles away.

Emilie seemed to share Lorelai's snow radar, since it had been just after 5:30 in the morning when the girl had woken her up. Rory had promised Emilie she'd take her outside, just as soon as she showered.

Now, her eyes still tired and mind still dazed, Rory stumbled down the stairs toward the dining room with a towel wrapped around her head and a robe tied around her body.

She paused at the door when she heard whistling from inside the room. Peeking inside, she saw Tristan standing over the table, pouring steaming water into mugs. "What are you doing?" she asked, stepping into the room.

He glanced up at her, his eyes following the curves of her body up and down until Rory self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest. She shouldn't have come downstairs in her robe.

"Making hot chocolate," he said quietly, holding a mug out to her as evidence. "Want some?"

Rory nodded, taking the cup from him hesitantly. "Thank you."

He nodded. "No problem." He returned to the remaining cups, his head bent over the table as he stirred the mixture. "Normandy's a health nut, but she can't even say no to my cocoa," he explained.

Rory smiled. "What are you doing up? You're a late sleeper to start with and then last night-"

"I didn't go to sleep," Tristan interrupted, "I couldn't stop thinking…"

Rory nodded, for the first time noticing the dark circles under his eyes. "About what?"

Tristan shrugged in response. "Something about picking the phone up last night, then going to get Ethan… I don't know. It just made me wonder."

Rory tipped her head to the side. "Have you heard anything yet?"

Tristan shook his head. "I'm going to call around 8:00 though." He paused. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for this."

Rory laughed. "For what? Taking care of an extra nine-year-old and picking his mom and her new baby up at the hospital?"

Tristan ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Well, yeah. I mean, this could really be me in a year. I could be more than just the fill-in, you know. It could be _my _kid and _my _wife."

Rory blinked, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, I'm going to hope that you won't have a nine-year-old son somewhere by next year," she said. She sat down in the chair next to where he was standing and looked up at him. "You'll do fine," she offered, "I've seen you with the girls. You're more than a brother to them; you know that."

Tristan nodded. "It's just different to think that this could be my life. I'm not used to it."

"Yeah."

Tristan sighed, covering his face with his hands. "I'm not sure I'm ready for it."

Rory's eyes widened and she was quiet for a minute. "…Yeah."

.

.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Amelie asked almost four hours later, casting her gaze out the window.

Tristan cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah."

Amelie offered him a small smile. "When I was a little girl, probably six or seven, I wanted a winter wedding. I wanted this big, fancy white dress made of lace and pearls, and a long train, like Princess Diana's. I wanted to get married outside, with snow falling around me and everything turned white."

Tristan paled. "Uh.."

Amelie laughed. "Then I realized just how unrealistic this was, because not even my father can control the weather. So I decided a Spring wedding would be much better."

"Good." Tristan took her hand in his. "It's only five months away, you know."

"Yes," Amelie said, kissing him lightly on the lips. As she pulled back, she frowned. "You don't already have cold feet, do you?"

"A little," he said.

Amelie's face fell. "Oh."

Tristan smiled, suddenly wishing he hadn't said it. "I should've worn thicker socks," he covered quickly, kissing her forehead.

.

.

"It's the 23rd and we already have a foot of snow. Well, I guess we'll be having a white Christmas. How Hallmark," Jordan drawled, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.

Rory frowned, glancing out the window to where Normandy, Ethan, and Emilie were playing. "Why do you have an accent?" she asked as she watched Ethan tackle Normandy, covering her face with snow.

Jordan shrugged. "I figured I'd try it on for size. See if it's me."

"You aren't from the South," Rory responded, looking back at Jordan.

"Yeah…" Jordan trailed off. She was quiet for a minute, her eyes searching Rory's. "Can I tell you something? Like, as my old roommate? In confidence?"

Rory nodded. "Of course."

Jordan bit her lip. "I met a guy."

"Big surprise," Rory laughed, rolling her eyes.

"No," Jordan said quickly, shaking her head. "It's serious."

"How serious? And how long?" Rory frowned, trying to remember if Jordan had mentioned a guy in any of their phone conversations.

"Like, seven weeks, I guess. Off and on, at first. We'd kind of hook up, then, you know, see someone else. But now we're really together."

"Uh-huh."

Jordan paused, meeting Rory's gaze. Suddenly the fun, carefree girl Rory had become used to was gone. "I think I'm pregnant," she muttered

Rory's mouth fell open. Just as she was gathering her thoughts to form a coherent repky, the door burst open. "Rory! I think Normandy's gonna kill Ethan!" Emilie shouted from the doorway, turning to run back outside.

Rory glanced out the window again. Normandy had caught up with Ethan and was now sitting on top of him as he lay in the snow, pounding her fists into his chest. She looked back at Jordan, shaking her head. "I have to go… take care of something. But we aren't done with this conversation."

Jordan nodded as Rory rushed from the room.

.

.

Ethan was scared. He'd seen Normandy slap Johnny Harris across the face when they were seven, after he'd pushed Katie Kingsley to the ground. She'd made the toughest bully in the second grade cry and blackened his eye. And if she could make Johnny Harris cry, Ethan didn't stand a chance.

"You're a psycho," she was screaming, her fist slamming against his chest. "I hate you!"

"I'm sorry," he croaked as another blow connected, this time with his stomach.

"No you aren't! You're no different than them! You're just a little, arrogant, self-serving-"

Each insult was followed by another blow and Ethan squeezed his eyes shut.

"You don't play fair! You don't stop! You don't do what I tell you to! And you took advantage-"

He tried to roll over and better protect himself, but her nails raked against his back. He winced as her fist made contact again. "Normandy," he cried.

"And you're stupid! Because if you were smart, you'd know that you shouldn't be giving your attacker access to your kidneys," she said, suddenly standing up and stalking away.

He noticed Rory at the door and it became clear why Normandy had stopped. He brought a hand to his back and reached under his sweatshirt. She'd made him bleed.

Ethan fell backward into the snow, a smile spreading across his face. It had been worth it.

He brought his fingers to his lips as he watched Normandy march inside, followed closely by Rory. Kissing Normandy Ashford… was definitely worth the pain.

.


	18. Christmas

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Christmas

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: The DuGrey family Christmas party

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Joan. Because only she can truly understand what's so hot about a few swimmer 'friends.' Unfortunately, 's spacing system's acting screwy. Sorry for the weird format.

* * *

,

Amelie had lent Rory a gown for the Christmas party, and as Rory stood at the top of the staircase and observed the guests, she was relieved she'd taken Amelie up on the offer.

The house had been transformed into something from a magazine, with decorations hanging from everywhere. The doorframes held mistletoe; red bows had replaced the window sashes, and garlands were draped at the top of the wall.

Hundreds of guests mulled about below, engaged in small talk or business conversations. All were dressed as if they were going to the Academy Awards immediately after the party, in evening gowns and tuxes.

Rory glanced down at her own gown. It was a deep green, cut low in the back so her skin was exposed. Three straps held the back together, and if that had been the style of the whole dress, Rory never would've worn it. But the front was much more modest. There was a slight scoop to the neckline, but it covered her breasts and gave her a taller, more elegant appearance.

"They don't bite," she heard Tristan whisper from behind her.

She turned her head to look at him. He was dressed more casually than most of the men, wearing a simple black suit. His blue eyes twinkled as he smiled at her, and Rory tried to clear her head. Tristan looked very good in a suit.

"You look gorgeous," Tristan said, his eyes sweeping over her.

She glanced at the floor, a bit embarrassed. "Thanks. You look nice, too."

"Care for an escort?" he asked, linking his arm through hers.

She blushed as his skin touched hers, but she managed to nod. She glanced around nervously as they descended. "Where's Amelie?"

"Mingling, entertaining the masses," he responded casually, letting go of her arm as they reached the floor. "I actually came up to tell you your mother and a few guests arrived. I told them I'd find you. They're in my study."

d  
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Lorelai grinned as Rory appeared at the door. "Merry Christmas, hon!" she said, reaching out to hug her daughter.

Rory returned the embrace, glad to see her mother. "Merry Christmas." She turned to Luke, who looked uncomfortable in a tuxedo. "Thanks for coming, Luke."

"No problem," he responded, trying to smile. "Your mom told me I had to wear this."

"She's probably right."

"It's, uh, a big party out there," Luke nodded.

Lorelai laughed. "Reminds me of when I was growing up. Ror, did you know I went to the DuGrey Christmas part every _single_ year until I got pregnant?"

Rory shook her head.

Lorelai sighed. "Well, I did. And I hated it then as much as I do now. It's just a bunch of people with too much money conversing over whether a bubblegum or toffee company is a better investment."

Rory laughed. "It's not _that_ bad."

Lorelai raised an eyebrow. "Heard it with my own ears." She glanced out the door to where Tristan was talking with a few family friends. "He grew up into one hell of a calendar boy. Remind me why you didn't date him when you had the chance."

Rory cleared her throat, surprised by her mother's topic change. "Because he was rude and conceited and I had Dean."

"And we all know how that turned out," Lorelai laughed.

Rory shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to relive events that were still too recent for her to laugh about.

Luke seemed to notice her discomfort. "Where's the food at these parties?"

Rory smiled gratefully. "I'll show you."

d  
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"I go home tomorrow," Ethan told Normandy as he straightened his tie.

Normandy glanced up from her seat on the corner of her bed. "That's right," she responded coolly, crossing her legs.

Ethan sighed, giving up on the tie and turning his full attention to her. "Are you going to come see my mom and Lily?"

Normandy raised an eyebrow. "I saw them yesterday. When we went to the hospital with Tristan."

"I mean at home- at my house."

Normandy sighed, pulling herself to her feet. "Right. Maybe."

Ethan bit his lip. "This is the most you've talked to me in two days, you know."

She nodded. "Mmm-hmm."

"And I already apologized a dozen times."

"Yep."

"Can't we just go back to normal?"

Normandy was quiet for a minute, but she relaxed slightly. "Okay."

Ethan smiled. "Cool."

Normandy nodded, leaning forward a little. "So if things are back to normal, I get to do this," she muttered, reaching out her hand and yanking on his tie, effectively straightening it.

Ethan nodded, bringing a hand up to rub his neck. "I guess so."

d  
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"Amelie, darling, you look like a million dollars. Where's your fiancé?" Mrs. Delacour asked.

Amelie smiled politely. "Thank you. And Tristan's around here somewhere. I saw him talking to the governor a few minutes ago."

"Ah. Fine boy. Does he plan on going into politics? I'm sure he'd be able to right this world."

Amelie raised an eyebrow. Anna Delacour had set up a scholarship for law students and aspiring politicians almost twenty years earlier, when her own son's dreams of Washington had been severed by a car accident that had taken his life. "It's a possibility," she answered smoothly. "There is a political history in his mother's family."

"Lovely boy, really. That smile alone could win an election." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Why do you think JFK became president?" she whispered.

Amelie frowned. "Because he was what the country needed at the time."

Mrs. Delacour shook her head. "Well, partly. But it was a televised campaign, darling. And John Fitzgerald Kennedy had a charisma much like your fianc's… and he wasn't exactly lacking in physical attractiveness either, was he?"

Amelie smiled. "I suppose not."

"Well, you'll have plenty of time once you're married to convince Tristan to think about that path, won't you?"

"I sup-"

"Think about what path?" Tristan asked, walking up to the two women and wrapping his arm casually around Amelie's waist.

"Mrs. Delacour was just telling me what a wonderful politician you'd make," Amelie said, a twinkle in her eyes.

Tristan nodded, turning his attention to Mrs. Delacour. "How's Michael been, Anna? Has he returned from his trip to France yet?"

"From what I've heard, he's doing quite well. And he's due back the 28th."

"Oh, I think I heard that somewhere." Tristan smiled, letting go of Amelie and linking his arm through Anna's. "And what have you been up to? My father tells me you've been doing a lot of work with some charities," he said as he led her away.

Amelie watched them go, a slight smile on her face. Tristan fit into this world with such ease, it sometimes surprised her. Where she herself had trouble making small talk, Tristan thrived in it.

She knew one day, they'd be hosting these parties- they'd be entertaining people such as the Delacours and the Harrisons and even the governor. Maybe even one day, they would be campaigning to the public, and Tristan would be some famous politician. She knew he planned to go to law school, but afterward he didn't even know what he wanted to do.

Amelie bit her lip. She just hoped that whatever Tristan decided to do, she'd be able to help him and be the perfect wife.

d  
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Tristan had forgotten how much Anna Delacour could talk. He smiled and nodded when it seemed right, but otherwise toned her out. His eyes scanned the crowd for a familiar face. There were hundreds of 'family friends,' if the term was used loosely.

Edward Kane, whose business had been bought out by Mr. Ashford, stood with his wife and teenage daughters by the tree, talking to Dr. Gerald Nardor, who had given Mr. Ashford's distant cousin a liver transplant five years before. James T. Reading, a college roommate of Mr. Ashford, stood awkwardly by the caterer's table, every so often waving to someone.

He looked around for his sisters, but they were nowhere to be found. He turned toward the stairs, deciding to check their rooms. He knew it was hard for them- it was, after all, Christmas, and Normandy and Emilie's day was crafted around the social event of the year. It wasn't a fun day to be young.

He climbed the stairs quickly, eager to be away from the party. He turned the corner to Emilie's room. Her door was partly open. He stood outside it for a moment, listening.

"And this is for you. By the way, you're hard to shop for," he heard Rory saying.

He pulled the door open a bit more, peeking inside. Normandy was unwrapping a small package, and Emilie and Ethan were sitting on the bed. Emilie was hugging a stuffed bear, its fur white and wearing a green suit decorated with Christmas ornaments. Ethan's was holding a package, still wrapped, on his lap.

Tristan eased open the door, stepping into the room. "What did you get, Normandy?" he asked, making his presence known.

"_The Bell Jar,_" she said, holding up a hardcover book. She gave Rory a quick hug. "Thank you."

Tristan's eyes widened, and Rory looked just as surprised by Normandy's uncharacteristic affection. She recovered quickly though, clearing her throat and glancing up at Tristan. "Party die down yet?"

Tristan shook his head. "Nah. I came up to escape it. And to see some of the most beautiful girls in the world."

He'd meant to refer to Normandy and Emilie, but the words rung between them as Tristan gazed at her. She did look beautiful. Her hair was pulled back in a simple knot and the dress clung to all her curves. Her skin was flushed and her eyes bright. He found himself staring at her and blinked quickly. "Uh…"

Rory stood up suddenly. "I, uh, was just about to go back downstairs. I'll see you later."

He nodded as she brushed past him. "Okay."

d  
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"I thought I'd find you up here. Have fun?"

Rory looked over to Amelie, who stood at her bedroom door. "The party's over?"

Amelie laughed. "This party never officially ends, I swear. There's still people downstairs, but a lot have gone home. Have you seen Tristan?"

"Not for a couple hours," Rory answered. "You can come in."

"Okay." Amelie walked further into the room. "He's been a little distant lately. I think he's getting nervous."

"Why would you think that?" Rory answered as calmly as she could, remembering her conversation with Tristan a couple days earlier.

"Oh, I don't know. He's just been acting strangely. I hope he's okay." Amelie smiled. "That dress looks really good on you, by the way."

Rory glanced down at the dress. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Amelie sat down on the corner of Rory's bed. "I met your mom today, by the way. She's very nice."

"And crazy," Rory added. "She's not, uh, very good at these parties. What did she say?"

"Nothing too strange. Except she introduced herself as a vicious trollop."

"Uh…"

"It was kind of funny, actually. The woman who was standing next to her- Emily, your grandmother, I think- kind of glared at her. They seem pretty close."

"A few drinks will do that to you."

Amelie laughed. "I should get back downstairs. If you see Tristan…"

"I'll tell him you were looking for him," Rory smiled.

d  
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It was almost 10:00 when Tristan knocked on Rory's door. He heard her mumble something from inside, but couldn't make out the words. He knocked again.

"I told you to come in-" Rory started, swinging open the door. "Tristan."

She'd changed into a black sweatshirt and gray drawstring pants. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, and Tristan realized she'd probably been getting ready for bed. "Hi."

"Amelie came looking for you a while ago. She told me you'd disappeared."

"I, uh, went for a run," he offered, realizing how absurd the words sounded as soon as he said them.

Rory nodded, clearly not buying it. "In this?" she asked, gesturing to her window. There was two feet of snow on the ground, and it had started snowing again at some point this afternoon.

"Yeah?" he half-asked, half-stated, wondering how he could recover.

"Okay," Rory said, letting him slide. "Why are you here?"

"Oh." Tristan paused. "I realized I forgot to give you your present before the party started this morning."

Rory's expression softened. "Oh."

"Yeah… Uh, I actually snuck it into your room earlier."

Rory glanced around but couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. "Okay."

"It's in your closet," Tristan explained, leaning against her doorframe.

"Oh, okay." Rory walked over to her closet and picked up a small package from the floor. It was wrapped in simple brown paper, with a single red rose on top. She took the rose off and tore the paper carefully. Inside was a wooden box, carefully carved and professionally finished. A golden clasp closed it. Rory glanced up curiously, meeting his gaze. She opened the box and smiled slightly, pulling out an old hardcover book. "Wow," she breathed, running her hands over the cover.

"Anna Karenina. First edition," Tristan explained. "I know you like to read so I thought…"

"It's perfect, she said, setting the book down. She smiled, walking over to him. "Thank you," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck.

d  
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Rory's hair smelled like coconut. Tristan hugged her back tentatively, knowing close contact with Rory Gilmore was the last thing he needed right now.

"It's perfect," she repeated, pulling away.

As she fell silent, Tristan frowned. She wouldn't meet his gaze. As his mind furiously went over everything he had done and said, looking for where he could've made her uncomfortable, he realized how tense she'd become, and how her eyes kept flitting over his head.

He followed her gaze, his heart racing with understanding as he looked above the doorframe. Mistletoe. "Uh," he cleared his throat.

Rory bit her lip, taking a step back. "We don't have-"

Tristan shrugged. "It's not that big of a deal, is it. It's not-" He knew he was lying even as he spoke. It was a big deal, but he couldn't admit that to himself. Not with Amelie right downstairs.

Rory shook her head quickly. "It's just… you."

Tristan nodded. "Yeah." He took a step closer. "And you're just-"

"Yeah."

As Rory's lips parted, Tristan caught them with his own. The kiss started gently as Tristan wrapped Rory in his arms. She returned it with a surprising intensity, and he deepened the kiss, her hands against the back of his head as she pulled him closer. She let out a small sigh as his tongue entered her mouth. He backed her up against the doorframe, reveling in the feel of her body flush against his own.

She pushed him away suddenly, her cheeks crimson and her breathing heavy. "Um…"

"Yeah," Tristan said, her nervousness snapping him back to reality and a wave of guilt washing over him. "I have to go."

"Yeah."

He was barely out of the room when she shut the door behind him. ,


	19. Crystal Village

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Crystal Village

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Tristan and Rory go to an ice show while Amelie and the girls visit Amelie's grandmother.

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Don't own Pete Yorn's "Crystal Village" either. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Rebekkah. Because she'll be a cool sister-in-law, and is already one of my best friends. .  
.

* * *

__

Take my hand / Come with me / Into this crystal scenery / And wait, til I retain the ticket / You would never have the time

* * *

__

.  
.

There was something natural about Amelie laying in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. Tristan sighed, thoroughly relaxed.

"What was that for?" Amelie murmured, half asleep.

"Nothing. I'm just happy," he answered honestly, kissing the crown of her head.

Amelie smiled. "So am I."

"Are you looking forward to the ice show tomorrow?"

Amelie paused. "That's tomorrow?" she asked, and something in her voice made Tristan nervous.

"Uh, yeah. The 28th, remember?"

Amelie bit her lip. "I totally forgot. I'm so sorry, Tristan. I promised my father I'd check in on my grandmother for him. She's been sick lately, and…"

"It's okay," Tristan said quickly, "We can do it next year."

Amelie smiled. "I like the sound of that."

Tristan nodded, trying not to let Amelie know how much it did matter. It had taken him almost three months to get the tickets, and even then they'd been $500 each. "So do I."

Amelie propped herself up on one elbow, an idea brightening up her eyes. "I know what you can do. Take Rory! I'm sure she'd love to go and that way my ticket doesn't get wasted…"

Tristan's stomach flipped. He hadn't spoken to Rory since the kiss two days before, and he didn't think spending all of tomorrow with her was a good idea. "I don't know, Amelie… she has to watch the girls and-"

"I'll take the girls with me. My grandmother is great with kids. I'm sure they'd love her."

"Amelie, I don't think-"

"Shh. It's perfect, Tristan," she said, rolling back over onto her side. "I'll ask her in the morning-"

"You don't have-"

She held her fingers to his lips. "Shh."  
.  
.  
.  
Ever since she'd kissed Tristan on Christmas Day, Rory couldn't seem to think of anything else. She brought her fingers to her lips, remembering how his had felt against hers, what it had felt like to have his hands on her cheek, her back, her neck.

Guilt washed over her immediately and she looked down at the kitchen table. Tristan was Amelie's fiancé. Her friend's love. Her employer.

"What are you thinking about?" Amelie asked as she walked over to the table, a peeled orange in her hand.

Rory blushed. "Nothing."

"Ooh. A boy?" Amelie asked, picking up on the blush.

"Yeah."

"Who? Do I know him?"

Rory bit her lip, trying to picture how Amelie would react if she learned the truth. "I doubt it."

"Ah, oh well." Amelie sat down, holding out an orange slice. "Want one?"

"Thanks," Rory said, taking it and biting into it. "I swear all you eat are oranges."

Amelie laughed. "And ice cream." Amelie paused, looking at her. "I need you to do me a favor."

Rory nodded. She felt so guilty she'd do almost anything. "Sure."

"I need you to go to the ice show with Tristan today."

Rory's eyes widened. _Almost _anything. "I don't think that's a very good idea. I mean, I'm supposed to be watching the girls and-"

"That's all taken care of. I'm going to take the girls to my grandmother's house today. I completely forgot about it, and I don't want the ticket to go to waste…"

"I don't know…"

"You know, Tristan was just as hesitant about it. But he gave in. It's not a big deal, Rory." Amelie smiled. "Stomach him for a few hours? For me?"

Rory sighed, realizing Amelie wasn't planning on giving in. "Fine…"  
.  
.  
.  
"Change of plans, girls. You're gonna come with me to my grandma's today," Amelie chirped as Normandy drank her orange juice.

"Have we ever met your gran, Amelie?" Emilie asked.

Amelie shook her head. "Nope. But she's dying to meet you two."

Normandy glanced up. "Is that an attempt at dark humor, Amelie? I'm assuming your grandmother would have to be at least seventy, given your age and your father's age, so death… it could've been droll if you'd done it right."

Amelie laughed. "No. I'm just saying she really wants to meet you guys. And since Rory has plans today, it will work out perfectly."

"What's Rory doing?" Emilie asked, "I thought she was going to be home today."

"Rory's doing me a favor and filling in for me at the ice show. She's going with Tristan."

Normandy raised an eyebrow. "Oh."

Amelie frowned. "What?"

"Nothing. I just find it interesting you're sending another girl out on a date with my brother."

"It's not a _date_," Amelie rolled her eyes.

"You know best."

Amelie smiled. "I do… So are you guys up for coming along?"

"Yes!" Emilie exclaimed, grinning, "Does your gran have candy?"

"Boatloads." Amelie turned to Normandy. "What do you say?"

"I might as well come, even if it's only to supervise Emilie's candy intake. You know, her crankiness when she doesn't eat could suggest a blood sugar-"

"Okay, good. And Normandy? I can promise you we won't kill your sister today, okay?" Amelie said, smiling at the young girl.

Normandy shrugged. "If you say so."  
.  
.  
.

"This wasn't my idea," Tristan said as he and Rory drove through Hartford, the wipers going full blast as snow continued to fall.

"I know," Rory said, her first words since she'd gotten into Tristan's car.

"Yeah. Well…" Tristan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Rory…"

She tensed. "What?"

"Well, I just… we were… I mean, it was just a holiday cheer, don't break tradition, mistletoe induced kiss…. right?" He glanced over at her and quickly looked back at the road.

Rory looked at him. His jaw was tensed and his lips set in a thin line. His gaze was hardened. She gulped. "Yeah."

He looked over at her. "Good."

Rory nodded, studying him. Something had flickered in his gaze, and she wasn't sure what it was. Could it have been sadness? Disappointment? Or was it relief? Did he care about her at all? "Uh.."

"We're almost there. Another fifteen minutes, probably."

"Good," Rory said quietly, and the two lapsed back into an awkward silence.  
.  
.  
.

The first time she'd ever done this she'd been sixteen and just as nervous. She'd never been an innocent flower, and certainly not a Virgin Mary. But it was times like this when she wished she'd been a little more innocent, or at least a little more careful.

Jordan swore under her breath, her legs shaking as a tear ran down her cheek. She threw the stick against the wall, bringing her head to rest in her hands.

She'd never wished so much for blue to fade to white, for positive to be negative, for life to rewind to six weeks ago.

She sighed, standing up slowly. She walked calmly back to her room and picked up the telephone next to her bed. She dialed a number she'd recently learned by heart. "Is Andrew there?" she asked, her voice shaky.

She sniffed as she sat down on her bed, waiting for him to come to the phone.

"Hello?"

"It's Jordan," she said weakly, bringing her knees to her chest. "Can you come over? I need to tell you something…"  
.  
.  
.

"My, you two must be two of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen," Grandmother Rousseau said, her voice trembling slightly with age. "Aside from my beautiful granddaughters, of course."

Amelie smiled fondly at her grandmother. "This is Normandy and this is Emilie," she said, gesturing to each of the two girls.

"My, and the come from the same parents? They look as different as night and day," Grandmother Rousseau murmured, looking from one to the other.

Amelie bit her lip, surprised by her grandmother's bluntness. "Their mother's very fair, like Emilie, and their father has the dark hair."

Normandy nodded. "It's possible, you know, to have a blonde child even if there hasn't been one in the family for generations. It's about recessive traits, and you can see how in would happen when you make aPunnet Square…" Amelie raised an eyebrow and Normandy shrugged. "Learned it in Biology."

"You learn Biology at your age?" Grandmother Rousseau asked, "The wonders of private schools."

Amelie smiled, looking over at Normandy. "Normandy's in all advanced classes," she said.

"Of course she is!" Grandmother Rousseau smiled. "She's related to Tristan DuGrey after all, is she not?"

Emilie grinned. "He's our brother!"

Normandy cleared her throat. "Half-brother."

Emilie shrugged. "Whatever." Turning her attention back to Grandmother Rousseau, she added, "He's the nicest and coolest and smartest big brother in the whole world. Have you met him?"

Grandmother Rousseau nodded. "A very nice young man. You should consider yourselves very lucky." She met Amelie's gaze in a pointed stare. "So should you, young lady."

And Amelie's heart sank as she realized her grandmother's gaze was flickering from her eyes to her ringless finger.  
.  
.  
.

"God, they're all so beautiful," Rory murmured, taking in all the intricately carved ice sculptures.

Tristan smiled. "Yeah, they are. Last year we saw one of a polar bear. All its fur was- I don't even know how to describe it. It had all been sculpted, though. It all had texture. I don't even want to imagine how long it takes to make those things…"

"I don't have that kind of patience," Rory said, reaching out to touch the face of a deer sculpture.

"This is the kind of thing I could actually picture myself doing," Tristan paused, "If I could stand the cold, I mean."

Rory laughed, but it sounded almost as fake as the conversation. For two people between whom conversation usually flowed so easily, it was difficult to continue with such a forced silence.

Rory crossed her arms over her pea coat, trying to protect herself from a cold gust of wind. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go buy myself a cup of hot chocolate."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Tristan smiled.

They walked to the vendor in silence.

"Two hot chocolates," Tristan told the man, fishing out his wallet as the drinks were made.

"That will be $12.50," the vendor said, pushing two Styrofoam cups across the counter.

Tristan's eyes widened but he paid the man. As they walked away, Tristan muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Rory asked.

Tristan sighed. "$12.50. That's $6.25 a cup. It's a rip-off."

"Oh. I can pay-"

Tristan shook his head quickly. "No, no, no. I didn't mean that. It's just everything about this place is a tourist trap."

Rory smiled. "If you want to leave…"

"I didn't mean-"

"I'm fine. We can go back home, or just-"

"Do you want to go out to dinner?" Tristan asked suddenly.

Rory blinked rapidly, surprised by his invitation. "Um…"

"I don't mean… I'm just starving. So if you want to…"

Rory bit her lip, trying to clear her thoughts. She wanted to go to dinner with Tristan, but that wasn't her brain talking. But what was the harm? "Okay."  
.  
.  
.

"Where… have… you… been… all… my life," Andrew Tarlatan said between kisses, running his hands down Jordan's sides.

Jordan pulled back uncomfortably. "What are you doing?"

"You said you wanted to talk," he said, leaning in again to kiss her neck.

Jordan shook her head, pulling back again. "It's not some code, Andrew. I really want to talk."

"Oh." Andrew took his hand off her waist, giving her a serious look. "What's wrong?"

Jordan sighed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger nervously. "I- uh, well, I'm not positive yet," she started.

"Jordan, what's going on?" Andrew asked, taking her hand in his. "I'm sure whatever it is-"

"I'm pregnant," she interrupted.  
.  
.  
.

"I'm pretty sure this is the best place in the area," Tristan said apologetically as he led Rory into a seedy pub. "Unless you want to go into the city."

Rory shrugged. "As long as I can buy a burger I'm fine."

Tristan nodded, glancing around. It was the stereotypical biker bar, with a pool table in the corner and trashy girls in leather miniskirts walking around. "We should've just gone home."

Rory smiled. "It's fine. Really."

They sat down at a small, sticky table and Tristan grimaced. "A burger sounds good. I wonder if they would make it to go."

"Oh, come on," Rory laughed, "Soak up the local atmosphere."

"I'm already being drowned in it."

"What can I get for ya?"

Tristan glanced up at the waitress. She wore fishnets and a red miniskirt with a see-through black lace skirt. "Two burgers, a Coke and…" He trailed off, looking at Rory.

"I'll have a Coke, too."

"Okay. Wait time's, like, ten minutes."

"Great." Tristan scowled as the waitress walked away.

Rory laughed. "It's weird to think that just a few miles away is the prettiest display in Hartford."

"There's prettier things," Tristan said.

"Right," Rory blushed. "Anyway, how bad can it be?"

Tristan shrugged as he noticed a man watching them out of the corner of his eye. "I don't know."  
.  
.  
.

Normandy yawned as Grandmother Rousseau and Amelie discussed the latter's wedding plans. The topic had been the same for the last hour, and Normandy was starting to wish she'd brought _Madame Bovary_, which she was half through.

"Darling, ivory is always the better choice," Grandmother Rousseau was saying, "It's classic yet elegant. And traditional. And there's a reason traditions stay, Amelie."

Normandy rolled her eyes. "Where's your bathroom?" she asked suddenly, desperate to escape the room, as Emilie had done nearly half an hour earlier.

"Up the stairs and around the corner, darling. Third door on the right."

"Thanks," she said, standing up.

She went up the stairs, but didn't go into the bathroom. Instead, she opened each door, looking for a bedroom.

Sure enough, Emilie was laying on the bed of the room closest to the stairs. "Hey," Normandy said as she entered.

"Nothing interesting," Emilie complained, not providing any further explanation.

Normandy knew what her sister was talking about. "Nothing?" she asked, heading over to the bureau. She slid open the top drawer. Pushing aside the socks, she frowned. "There's some creepy little figurine," she said, holding up a tiny clown statue. "And a couple books." Normandy pulled one from the drawer. "_Lover's Quarrel,_" she read, glancing at the cover, where a busty blonde clung to a man with an over defined chest. "Harlequin. Lovely."

Emilie shrugged. "I found a couple old records."

"Anything interesting?"

"Nope. It's jazz."

"Even Dad has a more interesting sock drawer."

Emilie shrugged. "Well, there's nothing very interesting about the lady."

"She had candy."

"Which you wouldn't let me eat," Emilie complained, sticking out her tongue.  
.  
.  
.

"Good burgers. I might actually come back here just for the burgers."

Tristan looked up at Rory. "Please tell me you're joking."

Rory laughed. "Well, kind of. But they are good."

"Not worth this though," Tristan complained, gesturing to the other diners.

"Be nice."

Tristan sighed. "Fine. But you owe me."

"What do I owe you?"

"Can I get back to you on that?"

Rory rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure." She leaned forward, suddenly serious. "I still feel guilty."

Rory's honesty had always been a trait he admired in her, but in this circumstance he couldn't help but wish she'd been less direct. "I know. So do I," he admitted.

"I'm not that kind of girl. I'm not the other girl. I've done that already, and I hated it."

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "You've been the other girl? My innocent little Mary?"

Rory laughed. "Oh, you'd be surprised."

"When? After I left Chilton, I'd assume."

"Actually, pretty recently." She paused, as if debating how much she should tell him. "Dean got married."

"Dean? Bagboy?"

"Yeah. Right out of high school. Anyway, last summer… well, you can probably picture it."

His eyes flickered over her. "I wish."

Rory flushed, her gaze dropping toward the table. "Tristan…"

"I know. I'm not- well, I _am._ But I'm not being serious. It's harmless."

Rory didn't get a chance to respond. The man Tristan had noticed eyeing them earlier was suddenly at Rory's side. He was leering at her, and he'd reached out for her arm. "Hey gorgeous. How 'bout you leave the accountant here and I'll teach you things only a real guy knows."

"I'm fine, thanks," Rory said, pulling her arm away.

"Aw, c'mon, you aint no better than me. We all come from the same blood, ya know. Adam and Eve and all that shit."

Tristan raised an eyebrow. As much as he wanted to get the guy away from Rory, he didn't want her to think he didn't think she could take care of it herself.

"I said no," Rory said calmly, looking directly into his eyes.

"Baby, I can tell you're dying for a good roll in the hay. He probably don't give you any, huh? Well, let me tell you, with that hot little body of yours I could keep you going all night long."

"That's enough!" Tristan said as the guy tried to grab Rory's shoulder.

The guy turned to Tristan and laughed. "And who's going to stop me? Not you…"

Tristan shook his head. "I'm not going to fight you, if that's what you mean." He stood up quickly, pushing the guy out of Rory's way. He reached out for her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Lets get out of here," he muttered, leading her from the pub.  
.  
.  
.

"Thanks," Rory muttered as she climbed into Tristan's Porsche. "I could've taken care of myself though, you know."

Tristan nodded. "I know. I couldn't stand watching that though."

"He was drunk, Tristan. Probably won't even remember it in the morning."

"That doesn't excuse it. The way he kept grabbing at you…" Tristan shook his head. "I couldn't watch it."

"Oh."

"He doesn't deserve a girl like you, Rory. He should stick to his own species."

Rory laughed. "You're making a bigger deal out of this than I am. Do you realize that?"

Tristan sighed, turning the key in the ignition. "You didn't deserve that."

"Yeah, but it's not-"

"I don't like you having to go through that. It makes me feel dirty… and it makes me want to punch the lights out of the guy."

Rory raised an eyebrow. "I'm okay. Lets just get out of here."

Tristan glanced at her. She looked worn out and delicate, not at all like the girl he'd seen just moments before, defending herself from her harasser. He remembered all the times he'd treated girls like they were a piece of meat, all the times he'd treated _Rory_ that way, and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Rory smiled, patting his hand. "It's okay. Lets just go home, Tristan."

As he pulled out of the parking space, her words rung in his ears and he wondered why it affected him so strongly when she referred to his house as her home.  
.  
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* * *

__

I would love to change your mind / You were there / And it was good in the beginning

* * *

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	20. This Is The New Year

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: This Is The New Year

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: New Years and the return of a familiar letter

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Don't own Death Cab for Cutie's "The New Year" either. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: To Joan. Because she's still the only one I can bounce ideas off of when it comes to this story, and she's been there for me through it all.

Some of the more FAQs: Normandy's nine. Amelie did not cheat on Tristan. This is a Trory. I'm not just going to abandon Amelie's character.

Feedback: Is obviously appreciated. Thanks.  
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__

So this is the new year / And I have no resolutions

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Tristan pulled away slowly, his gaze heavy. "That probably wasn't... we shouldn't have done that," he murmured.

Rory nodded, her eyes still focused on Tristan's bottom lip. "No..." she trailed off as she felt Tristan's arm on her back, pulling her closer. "We should-"

Her words were cut off as Tristan pulled her to him, his mouth already seeking hers. She returned the kiss hungrily, and it was nothing like the first one as his lips worked fervidly over hers. There was no hesitation, no gentleness, no uncertainty.

There was a creak and they sprang apart as the door opened, faces flushed and breathing heavy as they turned toward the door.

"Hey, Rory? I was just..." Normandy trailed off, looking from Rory to Tristan and back. She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at her brother. "I'm thinking I'm not the one who needs to explain anything."  
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****

Six Hours Earlier

.  
.  
.  
Tristan had been only slightly surprised when Jordan cornered him shortly after arriving for New Years' dinner. "I need to talk to you," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him from the dining room.

"Um..." Tristan started as he let himself be led into the old art studio. He knew what this was about, or at least he thought he did. Jordan hadn't touched her wine, and Jordan was never one to pass on a free drink. She'd paled when the turkey had come out, and excused herself quickly after dinner. "What's up?" he asked indulgently, letting Jordan work up to it at her own speed.

"How do you know something's up?" she snapped quickly, and then, noticing what she'd done, laughed. "Sorry. I'm just... hormonal."

"No kidding."

"Huh?"

"Uh, nothing. You still haven't told me what's going on."

Jordan crossed her arms over her stomach. "And you haven't told me how you know something's going on."

Tristan shrugged. "Well, you're acting kind of weird..."

"Fine," Jordan pouted. She narrowed her eyes, studying him critically. "I'm pregnant," she said as she exhaled, looking up at him timidly.

"Congratulations," Tristan said flatly.

Jordan frowned. "Wait! What? That's all you have to say?"

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "What else do you want me to say?"

Jordan shook her head. "Nothing. I just expected you to be more... surprised. Wait! Are you calling me a slut?"

"No," Tristan laughed. "Have you told Mom?"

"I'm kind of dreading it. It's just another thing for her to add to her list of reasons of why I'm the stupid, reckless twin."

"Well, Jordan, I think it's going to be a little hard for you to hide it a year from now, when you come to dinner with a baby."

"Maybe I just won't come?"

"Jor..."

Jordan sighed. "Yeah, you're right; I know. I just don't want to," she said, running a hand through her long blonde hair.

Tristan offered her a small smile. "Jor?"

"Yeah?"

"Congratulations," he said, enveloping his twin in a hug, "You'll be a great mom."  
.  
.  
.

"I don't really get the point of the kiss at midnight," Amelie said, leaning back into the couch, "I mean, who would really believe it automatically starts the year off right? Do all those high school girls who kiss their boyfriends at midnight end up with them for the rest of the next year?"

Rory laughed. "Not usually."

Jordan shrugged. "I think it's kind of sweet, actually. And it's just an excuse to kiss, anyway. Why not?"

Normandy, who'd been sitting silently in an armchair, shook her head. "It's paranoia. It's become a superstition, almost. Like kissing under the mistletoe." Rory shifted uncomfortably as Normandy caught her gaze. "There's nothing that forces you to do it, but you do it anyway. Because you worry about what will happen if you don't."

Amelie smiled. "That actually makes a lot of sense."

Tristan yawned, wrapping an arm loosely around Amelie's shoulders. "I don't know. I think a kiss is just a kiss, no matter when or where or how it happens. I mean, isn't blaming a kiss on the mistletoe just an excuse anyway? If you didn't want to kiss the person, you wouldn't have."

Rory flushed as Tristan looked over at her.

Normandy frowned, following her brother's gaze. After a moment she nodded. "Yeah, I guess so."

Rory shifted again, sure the young girl knew. She looked away from Normandy, only to find Tristan's eyes on her.

It was going to be a long, long night.  
.  
.  
.

"I can't believe we go back to class in a week," Jordan said later that night, flopping down next to Rory on the couch. "It feels like vacation's just started."

Rory raised an eyebrow. "When's the last time you went to class?"

"Um, a month or so ago?" Jordan's eyes widened at Rory's look. "Hey! Who are you to talk? You've missed class lately."

"Twice," Rory said, holding up two fingers to emphasize her point. "And I got the notes from both."

"That's still two more classes than you missed in _all_ of last year."

"Jordan..."

"It's a good thing, Rory. I'm always telling you to loosen up," Jordan smirked, "I just didn't think it would take my brother to do it."

Rory's eyes widened. "Your- Tristan? What?"

Jordan smirked. "He's good at it. Got Amelie to loosen up a little, too. I should've thought of it a lot sooner."

"Tristan has nothing to do with it."

"Don't lie to me. Pregnancy's like a lie detector."

"You're _barely_ pregnant. And I'm not lying."

"Uh-huh..."  
.  
.  
.

Tristan stared at his cell phone strangely before holding it out to Amelie. "It's... for you."

Amelie frowned and took the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey! Happy New Year!"

Amelie smiled at the slightly slurred exclamation. "Ally?"

"Yeah!"

"It's only 10:00 here. Where are you?"

"Kansas... don't ask. But I thought you were three hours ahead of here?"

"If you were on the west coast, yes," Amelie laughed.

"Oh... right. So Max was right. Huh."

"How's he doing?"

"Good. I think I'm a bad influence on him. He won't let me visit the little kids in his class."

"I'm sure he..." Amelie trailed off as static interrupted her words. "What's going on?"

"Sorry about that," came a distinctly male voice, "I, uh, think your sister's alcohol finally caught up with her."

Amelie crinkled her nose. "Lovely. Is this Max?"

"Yeah."

Amelie glanced at Tristan, who was still standing by the door, and lowered her voice. "Did you sell it?"

"Uh... yeah."

Amelie breathed a sigh of relief. "So Ally's okay now?"

"She's fine. You worry about her too much. Let me."

Amelie smiled. "You know, I think you're the best thing that's happened to my sister in a long time."

"I think I'll take that as a compliment... Uh, I should probably go check on her now."

"Yeah. Happy New Year, Max."

"You too, Amelie."

Amelie turned off the phone and glanced up at Tristan. "Ally says Happy New Year."

"That was nice of her..."

"Yeah," Amelie smiled, "Yeah, it was."  
.  
.  
.

Normandy opened the door to Emilie's room quietly, in case her sister was asleep; it was, after all, just moments from midnight. She was happy to see Emilie was still up, sitting on her bed, hunched over a piece of paper.

"What are you doing?"

Emilie glanced up and smiled. "Hi Normandy. I'm reading. There's some hard words, too."

"That's good. What is it?"

Emilie shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think it's someone's diary entry."

Normandy frowned. "Oh. Whose? You probably shouldn't be reading it, Emilie."

"I'm being careful with it. I'll try to give it back when I'm done."

"Whose is it?"

"Rory's."

Normandy glanced down at the paper, her interest piqued. "Can I see that for a minute?"

Emilie nodded, handing the sheet to her sister. "Rory's smart. She uses lots of big words. I bet you'll like it."

"Yeah..." Normandy said, scanning the letter. Her eyes lit on an entry half way down the page, dated November 27, 2001. Normandy frowned. She would've just turned five. And Tristan had left home to go to military school right after her fifth birthday. The timing was right. "Hey, Emilie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna go check something. But I need your letter. I'll be right back."  
.  
.  
.

The sitting room was oddly quiet, Jordan and Amelie having left moments before to help Corina with a spill. Rory and Tristan sat on opposite ends of the couch, their gazes on the television in front of them.

The clock had started a countdown at the bottom of the screen, and it read in large white numbers 1:52. There were less than two minutes until midnight.

Rory sighed, the first to speak. "God, it's weird to think that at this time last year, I was with some guy at a frat party."

Tristan looked up, surprised. "Rory Gilmore drinks?"

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"Yeah. I guess I did. Maybe a little bit." She pinched her fingers together to emphasize her point.

Tristan shrugged. "It's okay. I was always drunk at parties. Even in high school."

"Oh. Even when you were like, sixteen?"

Tristan nodded. "I think I only went to one party sober that year," he said, laughing quietly, "And most of it I wish I didn't remember."

"Why?"

Tristan paused, meeting Rory's gaze. "I broke up with my girlfriend. Do you remember Summer?"

"Yeah," Rory said quietly, a slight brush rising to her cheeks, "I remember that party."

Tristan nodded. "I wish I didn't. Well, some parts at least." He brought his eyes back up to hers and was surprised to find her still looking at him, searching him. "I was never under Summer," he said softly, vaguely aware of the final countdown on the television, "so I never had to get over her."

She didn't speak, just stared at him. There was something electric in his eyes, something primitive, and it drew her to him. The space between them seemed to vanish, although neither would remember moving.

Tristan lowered his head to Rory's, resting his forehead against hers. He looked into her eyes, the normally glittering cobalt cloudy with longing. Then her eyes were fluttering closed as his lips descended upon hers. The kiss was a light caress, a searching, timid touch, growing deeper only as noisemakers and horns went off in the background, confetti covering the television screen.  
.  
.  
.

Tristan pulled away slowly, his gaze heavy. "That probably wasn't... we shouldn't have done that," he murmured.

Rory nodded, her eyes still focused on Tristan's bottom lip. "No..." she trailed off as she felt Tristan's arm on her back, pulling her closer. "We should-"

Her words were cut off as Tristan pulled her to him, his mouth already seeking hers. She returned the kiss hungrily, and it was nothing like the first one as his lips worked fervidly over hers. There was no hesitation, no gentleness, no uncertainty.

There was a creak and they sprang apart as the door opened, faces flushed and breathing heavy as they turned toward the door.

"Hey, Rory? I was just..." Normandy trailed off, looking from Rory to Tristan and back. She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at her brother. "I'm thinking I'm not the one who needs to explain anything."

Rory's eyes scanned the room nervously for an exit and when she came up with nothing, turned her gaze back to Normandy. "It's not what it-"

Normandy shook her head. "Don't say that, Rory. It's a cliché, and it's rare something's not what it looks like." She looked over at Tristan, disgust evident in her gaze, "I'm betting Amelie doesn't know about this? How long has it been going on?"

Tristan stood up, his eyes pleading with Normandy. "Normandy, it's nothing. Just a New Years thing. There's no reason to upset Amelie."

Rory nodded quickly, standing up as well. "Like you said, Normandy? Just a tradition that's turned into a superstition, right? Nothing at all."

Normandy nodded slowly, raising the paper that had gone unnoticed in her hand. "Nothing, Rory? I have to disagree." Clearing her throat, she read slowly, "November 27th, 2001. Tonight… I wasn't sure what to think. I'm happy with him, I know that. But for a second, I almost wished he wasn't there. I almost wished I could've gotten that goodbye kiss. I know it's stupid because I'm completely in love with Dean, and I hate _him_, but I did think it. Not for long, but the thought did cross my mind." She paused dramatically, looking at Tristan, "Well, it's too late now."  
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For self assigned penance / For problems with easy solutions  
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	21. Lost

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Lost

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: The fallout of what Normandy saw.

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Don't own The Calling's "Lost" either. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Dedication: To Ms. Vaughn, genevra, deeta, and LizDarcy1. You guys are some of my most faithful reviewers, and it's because of you that I continue to write, even when I probably shouldn't be.

Feedback: Is obviously appreciated. Thanks.

Reference: Rory's reference to Carly Simon is referring to her song, "You're So Vain." You've all heard it. sings You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you, don't you?

Author's Note: I'm so, so, so sorry for the utter lack of updates. I've been sick lately, and busy. I've also lost my primary beta and confidante in this story, so I'm sorry for any inconsistencies. It may be a little rough around the edges until I'm able to replace her. Plus, it seems like whenever I'm ready to update, doesn't want me to.  
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There's a dark cloud over me / And I can't shake it off / I can't make a move to save myself

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"Here's your letter," Normandy said loudly, stalking back into Emilie's room with Rory's letter in hand.

Emilie jumped at her sister's tone, looking over at Normandy in curiosity. "What's wrong, Normandy?" she asked quietly.

Normandy shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it. Just... I didn't like something I read in it."

"Oh," Emilie pouted. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd like it."

Normandy forced a smile. "It's not your fault, Emilie. You were right. The writing's very good. It was the subject matter I didn't like."

Emilie giggled. "No warm and fuzzies for you?"

"'Fraid not." Normandy shifted uncomfortably before walking over to her sister's bed. "I'm going to go to bed, Emilie. You should, too."

"Okay. 'Night," Emile said, leaning forward and grabbing her big sister in a bear hug.

"Good night," Normandy said, taking a step back and turning for the door.

"Normandy?"

Normandy paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

"Will you make a snowman with me tomorrow?"

Normandy sighed. "Yeah, sure."

"Yay!" Emilie smiled. "I love you, Normandy."

"I love you, too."  
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Rory's feet danced over the sitting room floor as she paced nervously. "What are we going to do?" she asked anxiously, "Amelie will never understand. Normandy misinterpreted..."

"Did she?" Tristan interrupted, his head bowed in defeat, "I mean, to me it seems like you set out to-"

"_Don't._ Don't even go there, Tristan," Rory steamed, stopping in her pacing to glare at him. "You aren't some victim, and I'm not some love struck sick seductress! I was _sixteen._"

"Really? Because the way I see it you deliberately set out to come between me and Amelie." Tristan's voice was oddly whiny.

Rory crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly sick to her stomach. "What? And you're _innocent_ in all of this?"

"Well, compared to you..."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Rory shook her head. "Fine, Tristan. Whatever. If you don't want to own up to your mistakes..." Rory trailed off and began pacing again.

Tristan stood suddenly and stopped Rory, reaching out to grab her arm. "Will you _stop?_"

Rory froze, glancing down at his hand. She pulled her arm away quickly and glared up at him. "Don't touch me."

"Well, see, that's funny, because I'd think that's what you-"

She didn't even realized she'd slapped him until her hand began to sting. She pulled it away from his face quickly, averting her gaze.

Tristan watched her, slack jawed, before raising a hand to his cheek and massaging the reddened skin. "Ow."

Rory ground her teeth together, her eyes narrowed. "Listen. This isn't what's important. What's important is that Amelie's my _friend._ Your fiancée. And if she finds out what happened, it's going to kill her."

"You're probably dying to tell her. You're so screwed up you probably think that by telling her, she'll dump me, and I'll come running to _you._ Well, it isn't going to happen!"

Rory started to hum idly, looking away from Tristan.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Never heard of Carly Simon?"

Tristan swore under his breath. "Grow up, Rory."

"_Me?_" Rory laughed harshly. "Okay, I'll go do the 'grown up' thing," she muttered, turning her back on Tristan and heading for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To my room. I'm packing up and getting out of here."  
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Normandy had really hoped not to run into Amelie this morning. She wasn't ready to deal with any of the consequences of the previous night. Catching a glimpse of the woman in the dining room, she tried to tiptoe past the door, but it was too late.

"Normandy! You're up early."

Normandy turned around slowly. "I didn't really sleep."

Amelie smiled. "You're starting to sound like your brother. It's not a good habit to get into."

Tristan. Normandy had never hated someone as much as she hated Tristan right now. "I'm nothing like him," she muttered as she walked into the dining room.

"Why's that?" Amelie asked, confused by Normandy's tone.

Normandy bit her lip and sank down into the chair next to Amelie. "I'm just not. I don't want to talk about it."

Amelie frowned, but picked up an orange slice and held it out to Normandy. "Have one. You must be hungry."

"Thanks." Normandy popped it into her mouth.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" Amelie asked sweetly.

Normandy swallowed, avoiding her brother's fiancée's gaze. It would've been so much easier if Amelie was like the girls Tristan used to date, if she wasn't so _nice._ It was a lot harder to even look at Amelie, so unaware and kind.

"My sisters tell me I'm a great listener," Amelie added, offering Normandy a small smile.

Normandy frowned. "Just ask my brother why I'm upset. He'll know," she said, jumping from her seat and leaving the room as calmly as she could.  
.  
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"I'll go check on Normandy," Rory told Amelie later that day, "She hasn't come out of her room in hours. I'll bring her lunch."

Amelie nodded. "Can you see if I did something wrong? She got pretty upset when I was talking to her earlier."

Rory smiled tightly and offered a terse little nod. "I'm sure you didn't-"

"I didn't do anything on purpose, but little kids don't think the same way we do," Amelie shrugged. "Something's going on with her."

"I'll bet," Rory said, excusing herself from the sitting room.

She reached Normandy's room in less than a minute. Creaking the door open, she peeked in to see Normandy sitting cross-legged on her bed, scribbling notes in the margins of a book. "Can we talk?"

Normandy jumped at the sound of Rory's voice before nodding slowly.

Rory entered the room hesitantly, not taking her eyes off the young girl. "You shouldn't have seen that, Normandy."

Normandy raised an eyebrow. "That wouldn't have made it okay."

Rory nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

Normandy sighed, bringing the pencil to rest behind her ear. "I respected you, Rory. I thought you were intelligent and levelheaded and loyal."

Rory winced. "I know. And this is going to sound... trite, but I mean it. I don't want to hurt Amelie. She's my friend."

"Interesting way of treating your friends," Normandy said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Listen, I know you're upset," Rory continued, ignoring Normandy's comment, "but I don't want Amelie to know about this. There wasn't anything behind it. It was just a stupid tradition. It was midnight."

"Rory..."

"I mean it, Normandy. That letter... it was a long time ago. I was only a junior in high school. I was stupid, and I wasn't happy with my boyfriend. Tristan... there's nothing there anymore. I swear."

Normandy was quiet for a moment as she studied Rory. "I don't believe you. But Amelie doesn't deserve to get hurt. I won't say anything right now."

Rory let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Thank you."

Normandy shook her head. "But if I see you and Tristan acting too friendly in _any_ way, it's off. Even if it's just a hug, or a weird look. I don't like lying to Amelie. She's never been anything but nice to you."

Rory bit her lip, her stomach dropping. "I know," she said sadly, realizing just how true that was.

Normandy raised an eyebrow, looking at Rory in silence for a moment. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked suddenly, her tone a bit softer.

Rory blinked slowly and nodded. "Yeah..."

"That letter... I mean, I thought you thought Tristan was a jerk in high school."

Rory crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself tightly. "I did. It's complicated, Normandy. Sometimes what you think and what you feel aren't the same."

"So what do you feel now?"

"Now?" Rory smiled tightly. "My thoughts and my feeling's are the same. And they don't involve Tristan at all."

.  
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_Thoughts keep spinning through my head / All the times that we never did what we wanted to, yeah / But right before I hit the ground / It's just like a dream  
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	22. Abyss of Time

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Abyss of Time

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: More people find out, Tristan thinks about Rory, Amelie talks to a wedding planner

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Don't own The Calling's "Lost" either. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: The eating of my words is seriously starting to irritate me. I may be setting up a section on my site purely for my fiction because of that. Keep an eye out.

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"I'm pregnant and I'm fat and I hate my life," Jordan complained for the hundredth time that morning, collapsing onto Rory's bed. "And morning sickness is _not_ just in the morning."

Rory rolled her eyes, barely looking at her friend. "You aren't even showing yet, you're skinnier than me, and you haven't _had_ morning sickness."

Jordan heaved a sigh. "God, in all the good movies, they let the pregnant girl complain, and no one ever calls her on it. Why can't you be like that, Rory? I'm hormonal."

"No more so than usual. And I've seen you scarier than this." Rory bit her lip, glancing up at Jordan. "Can I talk to you about something?"

"We were talking about _me,_" Jordan whined, perking up anyway. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Or- yeah, it's nothing. I just wanted to talk about it."

Jordan raised a perfect eyebrow. "You want to talk about _nothing._"

Rory exhaled heavily, making a 'pffft' sound as she did. "I kissed Tristan," she muttered, her voice barely audible.

Jordan jumped, eyes widening. "You- you _what?_ Weren't you just telling me that you and Tristan are just... well, _nothing?_"

"Yeah, I was. We are. It was just a New Year's thing."

Jordan frowned. "Does Amelie know?"

"I don't think so. There's not really a reason for her to, you know? It was just a 'ooh, it's midnight and there's nobody better' kind of thing."

Jordan stretched out on Rory's bed, studying her intently. "What kind of kiss was it? Like, a peck?"

"Yeah. Well, the first one was."

"The first one? There was more than one?" Jordan asked, incredulous. "And you think Amelie doesn't need to know?"

"There's no reason to hurt her for nothing. It isn't going to happen again."

"It isn't?"

Rory shook her head vehemently. "No. It's not."

"Whatever you say, Rory. Although..."

Rory perked up despite herself. "Although what?"

"Well, Tristan really loves Amelie. So unless there's... _something_ there, I can't really imagine him kissing you." Jordan crinkled up her nose. "Eww. Can you picture that? _You_ and my brother? Ergh. My friend and my twin. Is there a way to clean out your brain?"

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"Do you wanna hold her?" Ethan asked Normandy, holding his little sister out at arm's length. "Babies are weird."

Normandy rolled her eyes and intercepted Lily. "They smell weird and they look weird. That doesn't mean they _are_ weird."

"She smells? Does she need her diaper changed?" Mrs. Calhoun called from the next room.

Normandy grimaced. "No. She just smells like powder and... baby."

Ethan laughed, poking at Lily's stomach. "Why didn't you call me back the other day?"

"I had.. stuff going on," Normandy answered vaguely, shrugging.

"Stuff? What stuff?"

"Nothing. Just Tristan being a nitwit."

Snickering, Ethan said, "You're the only person I know who says 'nitwit.'"

"Jordan, says something like it sometimes. Only 'nit' is replaced by the F-word."

"I should remember that."

"I'll stop being your friend."

"So why didn't you call? You never answered my question."

Normandy glanced up at him, a question evident in her gaze. "If I tell you, do you promise not to tell _anyone?_ Especially not Amelie?"

Ethan shrugged. "Yeah. Sure."

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Tristan hesitated outside of Rory's door before finally bringing his hand up and knocking, not giving himself a chance to pull away.

He heard a fumbling from within and then she stood there in jeans and a burgundy shirt that showed off her figure so... Tristan looked away quickly. He had to stop thinking of her that way. "Can I, uh, talk to you for a minute?"

Rory frowned and nodded, glancing over her shoulder. Tristan followed her gaze to see Jordan sitting on Rory's bed with a knowing smile.

Great. He half-tugged Rory out of the room, glaring at her. "You told her," he accused.

Rory frowned. "What? No? No I didn't. I wouldn't-"

"She sure looked like she knew."

"And she didn't say anything to you?" Rory crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you sure she knows?"

Huh? "Are you even talking about Jordan?"

Rory flushed. "I thought you were talking about Amelie... why'd you come up here, anyway?"

"I was thinking," Tristan said, shifting from one foot to the other. "It's not right for you to leave because of that. I know it wasn't your fault. I was just being a bastard."

Rory blinked. "I'm not leaving."

"What? You said you were going to pack up-"

"Um, yeah. After you told me I'd planned the whole thing out because I was secretly in lust with you."

"Well, yeah. I'm sorry about that."

"Whatever. It doesn't matter now. The point is, I'll stay here." Rory looked up at Tristan, eyes narrowed. "As long as you don't come anywhere near me."

"What? I thought you said everything was fine?" Tristan asked, confused.

Rory smirked. "I don't know if I could keep myself from throwing myself at you," she responded sarcastically, turning on her heels and slipping back into her room.

Tristan wondered if there was something wrong with him that the idea turned him on.

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"I think you should go with an ivory. It's classic yet thoughtful, and everybody loves ivory. What do you think, Amelie?"

Amelie shrugged, not caring for the details much, and having even less of a clue as to what she was supposed to be discussing. "Uh, it sounds good."

"And the print? I'm thinking a medium gold in a script-y font."

Text. Amelie frowned. So she was supposed to be talking about either wedding invitations or thank you cards. "That sounds lovely, Marguerite. I trust your judgment."

The wedding planner looked up, a question burning in her eyes. "You're the first bride to not obsess over the details. Is something wrong, Dear?"

Amelie shook her head. "The big wedding ceremony's more for our families than us. I'd be happy to just elope or something. The pomp isn't important to me."

Marguerite heaved a sigh, setting down her pencil. "Ah, to be young and in love. You need to get on the ball, darling. This is supposed to be the wedding of the year. And having a disinterested bride..." She trailed off, letting her words sink in.

Amelie shrugged. "I can't wait until it's just over."

"You just want the certificate?" Marguerite asked, flabbergasted. "What about the one of a kind Dior gown with the 25 foot train? The seven tier wedding cake? The orchestra?"

"I'll still go through with the wedding," Amelie said quickly, not wanting the wedding planner to keel over dead. "I just... all that matters to me is I'll be Tristan's wife, and we can start a family."

"It sounds like you actually love him."

Amelie smiled. "I do."

"Wait 'til your wedding day for that one, Dear. I don't see this often in my line of work."

"What?"

"People like you marrying for love."

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Tristan had been trying to push what Normandy had said that night out of his head for days now, but in those empty moments, like now, as he showered, his brain kept coming back to it.

Could Rory have really liked him in high school?

Sure, they'd had their moments, but none had ever come close to genuine affection.

Except...

Tristan lathered soap onto a facecloth as he considered his past with Rory, mind pausing at the kiss they'd shared on a piano bench all those years earlier.

She'd run away crying though, and soon after, she'd been back together with her boyfriend and telling the world she hated Tristan.

But that didn't explain the passage Normandy had read from Rory's- what was it? A diary, a journal, a log, a letter? He wished he knew.

He ran the facecloth over his chest, the scent of Irish Spring overpowering his nostrils.

How was he supposed to deal with this? He was getting married in about four months. But with Rory always nearby and constantly underfoot, how was he supposed to ignore her, and _not_ wonder? Ever since the kiss he'd wondered what it would be like to pull her to him again, to bite her bottom lip and peck at her jawline.

He felt instantly guilty and sighed. He loved Amelie, he really did.

That was it, he supposed. It would have to be enough.  
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	23. Semper Fidelis

Author: Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Semper Fidelis

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Lorelai sets Rory up with a guy; Amelie thinks Tristan has cold feet; Rory and Emilie have a heart to heart.

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

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Valentine's Day was fast approaching when Rory got a call from her mother. "You'll never guess who stopped by," Lorelai said, half-giggling, half-serious. "Do you remember Noel Harding?"

Rory pursed her lips, thinking. "Is he the guy Grandma tried to set me up with the summer before I started college?" Rory scowled.

"Yeah. Anyway, he was in town, and he tried to check in on you."

Intrigued despite herself, Rory furrowed her brow. "How's he doing?"

The last she had scene of Noel was the pained expression he'd held when she'd realized the whole evening had been an elaborate setup of Emily's and stormed out of the date.

"He's... gorgeous, Rory. If I were a little younger and I didn't have Luke, of course, you'd have to fight me off. Polite, too."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Rory could almost feel Lorelai's shrug over the phone line. "I just thought it's been a while since you've gone out with anyone, hon. That you could loosen up a little. And even if your grandma did pick him, he seems nice."

It couldn't be a coincidence that Lorelai was calling her with this news two days before Valentine's. "You didn't..." Rory groaned.

"Of course not. I'm not my mother." Lorelai snickered. "But I told Noel you didn't have a boyfriend and he should see what you were up to."

Rory bit her lip, embarrassed by her mother's meddling. "Mom..."

"It's up to you, Rory."

"It doesn't feel like that," Rory grumbled.

"Sweetie, I just think it would be good for you to get out. When's the last time you had a date?"

"You sound like Jordan," Rory grimaced.  
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It had been over a month since he'd kissed Rory, but Tristan still felt abnormally guilty about it. He'd avoided her as much as possible since their talk after the kiss, feeling the more distance he put between them, the less he'd be drawn to her.

It hadn't worked very well, so far.

Instead, he found his mind wandering at work, thinking about Rory's smile or the way her eyes flashed when she argued with him, or the way her lips had felt against his.

He was snapped from his thoughts by a timid voice that particular afternoon.

"Mr. DuGrey?"

Tristan glanced toward the doorway, where his secretary Joan stood, half hiding behind the door as she looked in on him. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"I- Costa del Sol's called to confirm your reservation. I okayed it for you. I hope that's okay."

Tristan nodded. "It's fine." When she didn't leave the doorway, he looked back up at her. "Is there something else?"

Joan gulped, looked at him uncertainly. "No. I was just... surprised."

Tristan smiled kindly, secretly wishing his secretary had more of a backbone. "About what?"

"I was... I thought you and Miss Rousseau would go somewhere more sophisticated for Valentine's Day." Her face became pallid as she realized what she had said and shook her head quickly. "I don't mean that you aren't sophisticated people, and you're not stuck up or... oh no."

Tristan tried not to smirk as Joan glanced down at her feet, too ashamed to meet his gaze. He pursed his lips. "Costa del Sol was where Amelie and I had our first real date," he explained

Joan seemed to settle down a bit, looking back up at him and smiling. "So you're going back there for Valentine's? That's so romantic," she breathed, her voice carrying the same quality as a schoolgirl's.

Tristan smiled. "I guess it is."

"Amelie's lucky to have you, Tristan," Joan offered sweetly, her cheeks pinkening with her words.

Tristan's stomach dropped at the simple comment and he shook his head. "No. I think I'm the lucky one."  
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Amelie twirled a finger through her hair as she chatted on the phone idly with Allison. Her sister had called nearly an hour earlier, and the conversation had yet to come to a head.

"Listen, sis," Allison was saying, her voice almost too light, "I was trying to decide between red and black for Tuesday. The black dress is more classic, but the red dress is clingier, sexier. What do you think?"

Amelie rolled her eyes at her sister's question, wondering if real issues would ever reach Allison's mind. "You're going with Max, right?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Then I'd say the black one," Amelie pursed her lips. "He's a teacher, and a nice guy. I'm sure he's not expecting you to go full vamp for the night."

"God, Ames, he's such a nice guy. I'm not used to having a guy who's so... well, _there_ for me. It's kind of nice."

Amelie smiled. "You deserve it, Allison. So don't screw it up."

Allison let out a little laugh. "Thanks for your vote of confidence," she responded. "I won't be."

Amelie glanced at her watch and frowned. "Allison, as much as I love talking to you, dinner starts in five minutes, and I promised the girls I'd eat with them."

"Where's Tristan?"

"Working," Amelie sighed.

Allison noticed the sigh and lapsed into silence for a minute. "Is something wrong?"

Amelie shook her head vigorously before realizing Allison wouldn't see her response. "No. At least I don't think so. He's just been working a lot lately."

"Cold feet?"

"I don't know. Maybe. He does seem to want more time to himself lately."

"So talk to him, Ames. Let him know that he's not the only one going into this thing. Everything will be fine," Allison said, her voice oddly reassuring.

.  
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Later that night, Rory was cuddled under her blankets reading the copy of Anna Karenina Tristan had given her for Christmas when there was a knock on her door. Furrowing her brow, she glanced over at the clock. It was nearly 11:00. "Come in."

The door squeaked open slowly and Emilie poked her head in, blonde ringlets surrounding her face. "Hi," she whispered, sidestepping into the room.

Rory pushed back the covers and started to get out of bed, but Emilie rushed over to her side. "You don't have to get up," Emilie said, her tone still quiet, "I just wanted to talk."

Rory frowned. "Em, why didn't you talk to me earlier? You have school tomorrow, and you're supposed to be in bed."

Emilie bit her lip. "I meant to, but I forgot. Then I couldn't get to sleep, so I came up here to see if you were awake."

Rory sighed, patting the space next to her on the bed. "Come here."

Emilie smiled and crawled up onto the bed. "I feel stupid."

"Why?"

"Because Normandy said I was being stupid."

"What's going on, Em?" Rory asked, genuinely concerned.

The six-year old's face crumpled at Rory's stare. "Roger pulled my hair on Friday, and I turned around and slapped him."

Rory didn't recognize the name, but didn't let on. "Did you get in trouble?" she asked, catching Emilie under the armpits and pulling her up so she was sitting next to her.

"No," Emilie said, tossing her head side to side to emphasize her point. "But Normandy said he pulled my hair because he likes me."

"Oh."

Emilie bit her lip, glancing up at Rory with big blue eyes. "Do you think that's why?"

Rory shrugged. "It could be, Em."

"I don't like him," Emilie complained. "He's a buttface."

"Hey! That's not nice," Rory reprimanded, surprised to hear such language from the normally sweet girl.

"I'm sorry, Rory," Emilie cried, features caving in on one another. "Roger told me I was mean, too. I'm a bad girl, aren't I?"

Rory sighed, wrapping an arm around Emilie's tiny shoulders and pulling her into a hug. "Shh. Shh. No, you're not, Emilie. It's okay," she murmured, rocking the girl back and forth slightly.

Rory wasn't sure if she was more upset because Emilie was upset, or because Emilie hadn't even thought to go to her parents. Long after Emilie had fallen asleep in her arms, Rory was still considering this.

Had this been how Tristan had grown up? In the uncaring arms of Mrs. Ashford and the equally distant ones of Mr. DuGrey?

.  
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"You're staying here tonight?" Tristan questioned as Amelie changed into her nightgown, her back to him.

Amelie nodded. "I'm too tired to drive to my apartment, and I've been staying here a lot lately anyway. We might as well get used to living together all the time. We'll be married in three months."

Tristan watched her as she slipped the fabric over her head and began to brush her hair. "I can't wait until you're my wife," he told her.

Amelie paused mid-stroke and turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "Really?" she asked.

Tristan frowned. "Yeah, really."

Amelie's face broke out in a grin and she made her way over to the bed. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."

Tristan mirrored her grin, casting an appreciative glance at her legs. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you in that nightgown."

Amelie blushed, shaking her head. "Don't embarrass me like that."

Tristan held up a hand in mock resignation, before quickly reaching out and grabbing Amelie's wrist, pulling her down against him on the bed. "Can I at least give my bride to be a kiss?" he murmured against her neck.  
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	24. Semper In Perpetuum

Author: Indian Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Semper In Perpetuum

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Valentine's Day.

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)

Author's Note: I just realized some of the earlier chapters lost their format. When I have time to go back and fix this, I will. Thanks to my newer readers who struggled through them to read them, and had the confidence to do so. You're all awesome.  
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Rory swore under her breath as she stood on the fronts steps to the Ashford mansion, wishing she hadn't agreed to her mother's harebrained plan. Being set up, on _Valentine's Day_, no less, was humiliating.

She looked nervously toward the driveway and saw a man arguing with the guards. She narrowed her eyes and studied him. It looked like it could Noel. If so, a few years had been remarkably kind to him.

"It's okay! Let him through!" she called, descending the steps to meet him half way.

Noel smiled as she approached, and Rory found his grin to be contagious. She smiled back as she took in his features. His hair was a short dark brown, completely unstyled and natural, and his eyes were a warm chocolate. He wore a charcoal suit and had a bouquet of yellow roses in his hand.

"Hi," Rory said as she reached him.

"Hey," Noel answered, standing there staring at her for a minute, before thrusting the flowers into her hands. "These are for you. I thought red would be a bit too... much for a first date."

Rory glanced down at the roses, each one flawless. "They're gorgeous. Thank you. It's perfect."

Noel grinned in response, shifting from one foot to another. "Would you like to leave now, or...?" he asked, glancing at her shyly.

Rory nodded and linked her arm through his, leading him back down the driveway. "I'm sorry that you had to pick me up here. The guards can be a little tense sometimes."

Noel shrugged. "It's okay." He glanced over at her and caught her eye, his smile bearing perfectly white teeth. "You look... exquisite."

Rory couldn't help but smile at the way he complimented her, almost embarrassed yet completely earnest.

Everything Tristan DuGrey was not, she thought huffily as they passed by the gates. Tonight would be wonderful.  
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For their first date, Tristan had reserved a table in a small dining room of Costa del Sol, and he and Amelie had sat in a corner of the room, gazing at each other and out the large arched window as snow fell outside.

The restaurant hadn't changed much, and had retained it's personable wait staff even as it became well known. Everything down to the green trim on the eggshell-white walls had remained constant, so it seemed fitting that Tristan take Amelie to the place where there relationship had begun for Valentine's Day.

As they were led into the same private dining room they'd nervously entered years earlier, Tristan felt much more calm. He squeezed Amelie's hand as they approached their table, and pulled out her chair for her before she sat down.

Amelie let out a little squeal as she noticed the arched window and realized it was the same table, and furthermore, they could view the snow that had started to fall earlier that day.

The ground was blanketed in a thin layer of snow, and the trees and rooftops were splattered with white, but Tristan only glanced briefly out the window before returning his gaze to his fiancée. "You look gorgeous," he breathed, and she did. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a simple twist and she wore a little more makeup than usual- a little blusher, mascara, and lipstick- but her dress was what caught his eye. With its scooped neck, the simple black gown showed off her figure wonderfully, and showcased the golden lavaliere necklace he'd given her a year earlier.

Amelie flushed, always modest, and offered him a small smile. "Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself."

As the waiter handed him his menu, Tristan smiled back at Amelie. So far, this evening wasn't off to a bad start.

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Happy to have brought along her red cashmere scarf, hat, and gloves, Rory wished she'd chosen more practical shoes as she followed Noel along a busy Hartford street, aware restaurants were becoming fewer and farther between.

"Where are we going?" she asked as she struggled to keep up with him, looking around in confusion.

Noel, suddenly realizing he'd been walking to face for Rory, slowed down and smiled at her. "I was going to just take you to dinner, but I realized it was Valentine's Day, and you would deserve something better than just sitting in a fancy restaurant."

Rory glanced down at her hands, embarrassed by the flattery. "So what are we..."

"We're almost there," Noel interrupted, reaching for her hand and pulling her down a side street.

Rory frowned as the crowd started to disappear, thoroughly confused as to where they were going. "Isn't this a dead end?"

Noel nodded as they turned the corner and Rory paused.

In front of a building stood a horse drawn sleigh, made of rich mahogany wood and seats of black velvet. Attached to the sleigh was a single horse, sable in color and with a silky mane.

"Oh, wow," Rory breathed, breaking into a stride as she approached the sleigh. "How'd you know there'd be snow?"

"I didn't," Noel said, his brow furrowed.

Rory came to a stop, looking back over at him, hurt flooding her features. "This wasn't my grandmother's idea, was it?"

Noel shook his head quickly. "No. I don't think Emily knows."

Rory smiled, reaching out to pat the horse. "Then lets enjoy it."  
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"It feels like we haven't had a decent conversation in weeks," Amelie murmured, picking at her salad.

Tristan nodded, reaching across the table to grasp Amelie's hand in his. "I've missed talking to you," he admitted, squeezing her hand. "I've just been so busy lately."

Amelie let out a sigh. "I have, too. The wedding planner is on me about all these little details that I couldn't care less about. I just want to be with you."

"What have you been discussing? I'm sorry I wasn't at the last meeting to help you out."

"Centerpieces now. She wants this elaborate design with flowers and glass and candles and I... I don't know. I've never been good with this stuff."

"It will all come together," Tristan assured her.

"I have a fitting for my gown at your house on Friday, so you can't be home," Amelie told him. "They have to take in some seams."

"How's that coming along?" Tristan asked, not all that interested.

Amelie shrugged. "It's coming, I guess. If I had it my way, we'd have a private ceremony on a beach where I didn't even have to wear shoes."

"That's a nice dream," Tristan responded, wishing he could give Amelie what she wanted.

"A dream, yeah. But it can't be reality."

Tristan considered this for a moment. "What if we had a small wedding ceremony before the big one," he started slowly, "And just had the big one for everyone else?"

Amelie's eyes were aglow with hope for a moment, but it passed too quickly, and she shook her head. "We can't, Tristan. Our families would be so upset, and we don't have the time to plan a second ceremony now."

"That's the beauty of it, Amelie," Tristan said excitedly. "There's no planning necessary. Just you, me, a weekend away on the beach, and a justice of the peace."

"Tristan..."

"I'm serious, Amelie. We could do it as soon as you like."

As Amelie looked at him speculatively, Tristan furrowed his brow. Why was he suddenly pushing for this?

For Amelie, he told himself.

_For Amelie.  
_.  
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he told himself... 

"It's a Percheron," Noel was telling Rory, gesturing to the horse. "Their origin is in France, and they used to be used to bring knights into battle."

"Do you ride?" Rory asked good-naturedly, surprised by how easy she found it to talk with Noel.

Noel shook his head. "My sister did. Riding was her life."

Rory frowned at his tone. "Did she- was she- Why'd she stop riding?"

Noel seemed to catch on to what she was thinking and frowned. "No, she's okay. She stopped because she has diabetes, and it got pretty out of control. Our mom gave her an ultimatum."

"Oh. How old's your sister?"

"Seventeen. And a holy terror." Noel smiled over at her. "What were you like at seventeen? I met you were mostly the same. Serious, nice, beautiful..."

Rory bit her lip. "I was... a mess," she admitted slowly. "Hindsight's always 20/20, you know?"

"I have a hard time picturing you as a mess."

Rory shrugged. "I was. I was going out this guy who... well, he was basically a drop out. He'd go to school maybe once a week, he'd steal gnomes, he'd-" She trailed off as Noel started chuckling. "What's so funny?"

"He stole _gnomes_?" Noel said between laughs, shaking his head. "So is that a misdemeanor or a felony?"

"It's not funny," Rory grumbled, shaking her head.

"It kind of is," Noel said, still laughing.

Rory rolled her eyes and watched the city as it slowly passed by.  
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The door to the Ashford mansion was slightly ajar when Tristan and Amelie returned home, and Tristan's heart started to race before he even stepped inside.

"Tristan!" he heard Emilie yell, and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

"What's wrong, Emilie?" he called.

Normandy appeared at the foot of the stairs, her long brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She frowned at him. "Everything's fine, Tristan. You've been so overwrought lately, it was sure to affect your nerves sooner or later."

Tristan frowned. "Why was the door open?"

Emilie skipped down the stairs, having heard the question, a red-haired teen on her heels. The teen looked nervous and glanced back at the door. "I-uh, it must not have closed all the way when I came back inside from getting my stuff from my car. I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," Amelie assured her, laying a hand on Tristan's forearm.

"Who are you?" Tristan asked, still suspicious.

The girl bit her lip, looking at the door as if she wanted to flee. "I'm Stacey. I was babysitting Normandy and Emilie tonight."

Tristan's eyes narrowed as he stared down the girl. "Where's Rory?"

Stacey shrugged and Emilie rolled her eyes. "A boy picked her up earlier, Tristan," Emilie chirped, running over to her brother's side and wrapping her arms around his legs in a hug.

Tristan scooped up the little blonde girl and sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry, Stacey. I wasn't expecting you, and I thought something had happened to my sisters. How much do we owe you?"

Stacey shrugged. "I was here for four hours."

"Four hours? Okay." Tristan pulled out his wallet, having no idea how much he should pay the baby sitter. He removed a fifty and held it out to her. "Is this enough?"

Stacey nodded. "Thanks. I'm just going to go back upstairs and grab my bookbag."

Tristan watched her go, his frown returning.

Rory was out on a date and she still hadn't returned?

Tristan surreptitiously glanced at his watch, trying to assure himself that what he was feeling wasn't jealousy.  
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It felt awfully old-fashioned as Noel walked her to the door of the Ashford mansion, but Rory loved it.

There was something romance-movie-perfect about the moment, and Rory had decided hours ago to just take it moment for moment and thrive in the perfection of the night.

But there was something too clichéd about ending the date on the front steps. She slowed down as she approached the house and tugged at Noel's hand. "Wait."

Noel paused, glancing over at her. "Is something wrong?" he asked nervously, looking around.

"No," Rory shook her head. "i just wanted to say goodnight."

"Oh." Noel glanced toward the door in confusion. "I thought..."

Rory cocked her head at him and smiled. "There's something a bit too... textbook about that scene." Rory paused, looking up at Noel. "I had an amazing time. Thank you."

"I had a good time, too. You're a very interesting woman, Rory." Noel stared at her for a moment before clearing his throat. "Um..."

Rory couldn't tear her gaze from his warm eyes. "Yeah. Goodnight."

"Yeah..."

Noel blinked and the spell was broken. Rory lurched forward, her target Noel's bottom lip, at the same moment Noel leaned in.

The result was Rory falling against Noel's chest and her lips coming into contact with his chin, as his lips landed on her nose.

They both pulled back laughing, Rory's face flushing in embarrassment. "I haven't had an experience like that since high school," she admitted, dissolving into a fit of laughter.

Noel cleared his throat between chuckles and shook his head. "Neither have... actually, I don't think that's ever happened."

Rory grew serious as she studied him. "So, what do we do?"

Noel shrugged. "We could try again. Or you could, you know, take it as a sign."

Rory shook her head, a small smile curving her lips. "I'm not superstitious."

Noel let out a deep breath and smiled. "Good. Neither am I."  
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	25. Schadenfreude

Author: Indian Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Schadenfreude

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Tristan's reaction to Rory's date. Wedding planning. A phone conversation.

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)  
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There were some mornings where you just really needed coffee. The next morning, Rory was experiencing such a day, so she tugged a blanket over her pajama-clad shoulders and made her way down to the kitchen, eyes still bleary with sleep.

Making a beeline for the coffeepot, Rory failed to notice the dark shape in the corner of the room, until a noise came from the direction.

She spun her head around quickly, her heart pounding, looking for the intruder. Squinting, she noticed Tristan sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, a book resting on his knee and his eyes raised to meet hers.

Rory took a deep breath. "You scared me. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I'm working from home today," Tristan answered, his voice unnervingly nonchalant. "The wedding planner's coming over and Amelie asked for my help today."

"Oh." Rory could feel the color draining out of her cheeks and turned back toward the coffee.

Tristan cleared his throat. "How was your night? You weren't back when we got in."

"It was... nice."

"Oh." Tristan lapsed back into silence.

"And your date? How'd it go?"

"Amelie was happy with it. It went okay."

"Oh." Rory refilled the filter paper with grounds.

"She's so into this wedding planning stuff, though. I can't believe it's only three months away."

Rory clenched her mug in her left hand, knuckles whitening around the handle. "It's just cold feet," Rory said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

"Yeah, yeah. I know that. I'm just..." He trailed off, and Rory could hear him pulling himself to his feet.

"You'll be fine," she half-squeaked, and wished she'd just shut up.

"Yeah."

As he approached, the muscles in her back tensed and she swallowed her protest. "You just..."

"Yeah." He was breathing against her neck now, and the delicate hairs straightened at his warm breath.

"Tristan..." Rory squirmed away from him.

"I'm not sure if I want to do this," he murmured, running a hand over her shoulder and down the side of her arm. "I'm not ready to settle down."

"You're just saying that," she started, but her words were cut off as she felt his lips against the base of her neck. She made to pull away, but as his tongue darted across the bony surface, she found herself leaning into the touch instead. "Tristan..." her protest came out more like a moan.

"I didn't like it last night," he whispered, pulling away. "You with that guy."

"Tris..." Her words broke off as he spun her around gently, gently pushing her so her back was against the counter.

As his lips found the soft skin just above her collar bone, she let her head drop back, her mind awash with thoughts of his touch, and trying to memorize every second, every nip, every feel.

He'd reached her chin when rational thought hurtled back to her and she stepped away quickly. His breath smelled of alcohol, not so artfully concealed by peppermint and cinnamon.

"How much did you have to drink this morning?" she accused, pushing Tristan away as he moved toward her again.

His face slackened and he frowned. "Just a few..."

"Tristan..."

He blinked rapidly and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered, turning on his heels and rushing out of the kitchen.

Rory groaned, bringing a hand to her lips and collapsing back into the counter.  
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"Hey, Lane?"

"Rory? Is that you?"

Rory winced at the staticky reply. "Uh, yeah."

"I meant to call..."

"It's okay. I could've, too. I got the number from Zack's mom."

"Oh."

"How's the tour been?"

"It's cool. I'm starting to miss Stars Hollow, though. Only a few more weeks left."

"And the band's doing good?"

"Yeah. We had to take Brian to the hospital a while back, though. He had an asthma attack when he saw the crowd and... well, you know how Brian is."

"Yeah."

"So I'm guessing you didn't call me to ask about the band, though."

"No... I need advice."

"Ooh, juicy. About what?"

"Well, you got my email, right?"

"That you were playing mommy to that Chilton guy's kids?"

"Not his kids. Sisters."

"Oh, yeah. Right. The guy you kissed at that party, right?"

"...Yeah."

"Huh."

"Huh what?"

"Nothing. So what's going on?"

"He's getting married. And I'm friends with his fiancée."

"So? What's the problem?"

"We keep... we end up kissing."

"You and his fiancée? I thought the Paris thing was just a fluke."

"Lane!" Rory hissed.

"Sorry. Okay. So you and Tristan can't keep your hands off each other? Does the fiancée know?"

"No. She can't. And there's nothing to tell, anyway."

"Uh-huh. Well, Rory. If there's something to tell, she needs to know. And you've got to talk it over with Tristan. And if there's nothing to tell... why are you telling me?"

Rory swore under her breath as she heard the click on the other end.  
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"I thought picking out china patterns was just a saying," Tristan grumbled as he studied a row of plates. Apparently there were six different patterns in the row, but he couldn't tell one apart from the next.

"These are just for the reception," Amelie explained, tapping a hand against the plate to Tristan's far right. "I like this one the best. What do you think, Tristan?"

Tristan shrugged. "It's... nice."

Amelie frowned. "If you don't like it, we can keep looking."

"_God, no_." Tristan cleared his throat. "I mean, no. It's perfect, Amelie."

Amelie pursed her lips, studying his expression. "Are you sure?"

"If you are." Tristan offered her a weak smile. "I just want this to be perfect for you."

Marguerite Wilson cleared her throat. "Well, if you agree, we really should get back to discussing the centerpieces. We haven't come to a decision on what kind of flowers to use, and there's still the question as to whether or not the wine should be..."

Tristan rolled his eyes, taking Amelie's hand as the wedding planner droned on. "I'd rather skip out on this and go to lunch with you," Tristan whined.

Amelie smiled. "Lets take care of the centerpieces and _then_ we'll eat. I promise."

"Fine," Tristan murmured, overwhelmed by a wave of guilt as he stared at Amelie's unknowing smile. He couldn't hurt her again. It simply wasn't a choice.  
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The main entrance was flung open as Emilie ran into the room, blonde curls flouncing as she collapsed onto the hard oak floor in a fit of giggles.

"What's going on?" Rory asked as she rushed out to meet the laughing girl, her worried frown curving into a smile.

Normandy rolled her eyes as she entered the house, stoic as ever, pulling Ethan in behind her. "Ethan was telling her about how Lilly peed on him when he tried to change her diaper."

Ethan frowned. "I think she thinks my pain's funny."

"Schadenfreude, Ethan. _Schadenfreude._ At least _try_ to sound intelligent," Normandy sniped, letting her backpack rest on her right hip.

Rory raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay, Normandy?"

Ethan snickered. "Is anything _ever_ okay in Normandy's eyes? Our teacher tried to tell her the Ky- Ke- K-something treaty wasn't that big of a deal today, and she went off on her."

"The Kyoto Protocol on Climate Change. I think you're familiar. Ms. Schipper- our science teacher- said it was an idealistic arrangement not truly necessary. She went on to say that she didn't see why the US should have anything to do with it."

Rory was familiar with the Kyoto Treaty, but only in the sense that it had been a document thrown around in the first presidential election she could vote in. "Uh..."

"So Normandy told her the US is the number one polluter, throwing around emissions statistics."

"Thirty-six percent," Normandy grumbled.

Ethan shrugged. "Yeah. And Ms. Schipper said since the majority couldn't be controlled by humans, it was pointless to try to fix the stuff that could."

Rory nodded, trying to pretend she had a clue where this was going.

Ethan, however, made it extremely easy. "So Normandy got a detention for saying that the teacher was a bumbling fool."

Rory opened her mouth to reply, but the ringing of the phone cut her off. Emilie, still on the floor, jumped to her feet. "I'll get it," she chirped as she ran across the room.

"Normandy, it's okay to, uh, disagree with your teacher," Rory said carefully. "But maybe you shouldn't call her a fool?"

"Rory! It's for you," Emilie spoke up, gesturing to the phone. "A boy." She was quiet for a moment, her attention focused on the phone. "Noel?"

Rory smiled slightly. "Okay, I'll take it upstairs, Emilie. I'll tell you when to hang up, okay?"  
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"I don't remember you saying anything about sisters," Noel said casually, as Rory stretched out on her bed.

Rory adjusted the phone. "Not a sister. I'm Emilie's nanny- governess. One of those."

"Oh, right. Emilie and... Normandy?"

"Yeah. You were talking to Emilie."

"Well, I'm talking to you now."

"Yeah..."

"Well, I wanted to check in, see how you were doing."

"Since last night? I was going to call you. I really did have a good time..."

"God, I knew I shouldn't have called so soon. Is there a but?" Noel asked, and Rory thought she could hear tension creeping into his voice.

"No," Rory laughed. "I had a good time. That's it."

"Oh. Then we should, you know, go out again sometime."

"I think you're right." Rory frowned. "I could get my friend to watch the girls for me, or..."

"Are you doing anything Friday?"

"Nothing was set in stone, but my grandmother wanted to see me."

"Oh."

Rory bit her lip. "What about during the day? We could have lunch or something?"

"Yeah. I could pick you up around 1:00 or something."

"That sounds good."

"Yeah. Yeah, it does."  
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	26. Guilt

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Rory brought her fingertip to her lip in thought, gazing at the clothes assembled on her bed. She'd narrowed down her selection to two pairs of jeans and three sweaters for her lunch date that afternoon, but from there, she was indecisive.

She picked up a red cardigan and held it in front of her as she stared in the full length mirror next to her bureau. Shrugging, she set it back down and pulled her sweatshirt over her head.

"Hey, Rory, I just wanted to sa-" Tristan's words died off suddenly as he threw open her door. Rory flushed as his eyes trailed down her body, her skin burning beneath his gaze. "Shit."

Rory pulled the red cardigan over her torso quickly, fiddling with the hem as embarrassedly avoided Tristan's gaze.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd- I didn't think." Tristan glanced back toward the door uncomfortably. "I'll just go. We can talk later."

"No," Rory reached out quickly and laid her hand over his forearm. "It's okay. What's going on?"

Tristan was silent, and Rory realized he was staring at her hand. She pulled it away quickly.

"Uh..." Tristan swallowed and looked away. "I just wanted to apologize for Wednesday morning. I can't avoid you forever, so..."

Rory nodded, studying him. His hair was a bit messier than usual and his normally bright blue eyes lacked their luster. Olive-brown circles were forming against tan skin under his eyes. "Have you slept?"

"Nah," Tristan shook his head. "I tried to but I felt too guilty."

Rory sighed. "Me, too."

"What? You look great." Tristan's jaw tensed as he realized what he'd said. "I mean, for someone who can't sleep."

"Girls get to use makeup."

"Yeah... Well, uh, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for everything that happened. It won't happen again. I was just drunk and I, uh, didn't know what I was saying."

Tristan's words came back to Rory suddenly and she frowned. "You know, it's completely normal to get cold feet before a wedding. You should talk to Amelie about it; she's probably feeling the same way."

Tristan groaned, collapsing onto Rory's bed. "No, she wouldn't be. Amelie's always so sure of...everything."

"I don't know about that. Maybe she's just a better actress than you?" She took a step closer to him before realizing her jeans were under him. Sighing, she tapped his shoulder. "I have to get ready for my date, and you're sitting on my-"

"Sometimes drinking gives you a moment of clarity," Tristan interrupted quietly, looking up at Rory through darkening eyes.

Rory gulped, taking a step away from Tristan as if he were a venomous snake. "Don't do this."

"No, I'm not going to." Tristan paused. "I love Amelie, I do. Just... I get jealous when you..." He trailed off.

Rory met his gaze, her cloudy azure eyes filled with hurt. "What? Am I supposed to just not date to keep you happy? How's that fair?"

"No," Tristan leaned forward and grasped Rory's hand in his, running his thumb lightly in circles across the top of her hand. "I'm happy for you. It just hurts."

Rory pulled her hand away quickly, shaking her head. "Don't do this, Tristan. I'm tired of it. Just go back to Amelie and let me get ready."  
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"Amelie, Amelie! I need you to stand _still_. I can't get accurate measurements if you don't stop moving. You want your gown to fit like a glove, don't you?"

"Something that doesn't fall off my shoulders would be fine," Amelie responded, hiking a piece of fabric over her shoulder.

Kaleigh Henley 'tsked' Amelie, clucking her tongue disagreeably as she measured Amelie's waist. "Have you ever considered modeling, darling? You've got the proportions."

Amelie laughed. "Not the cup size."

"Yes, well, that is rather unfortunate. But we can remedy that in a hundred different ways. Something as simple as tape would give you cleavage you don't think you have."

"I'm honestly not that concerned."

"That's why you hired me. This is going to be the wedding of the year, darling. Probably the decade. We must pay attention to details. Did you choose a pattern for your train?"

"They all looked the same to me. I was hoping you'd choose for me."

Kaleigh clucked again and let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine, dear. Don't worry about that." She shuffled through her rack of gowns before pulling one out. "Aha! Try this on, dear. I was thinking something of this style."

Amelie did as she was told, only grumbling a little as Kaleigh zipped her up and adjusted the corset. "I hope breathing's optional."

"Dear, dear, just look at yourself, and you answer that for me," Kaleigh murmured, nudging Amelie toward the mirror.

Amelie almost fell over at the weight of the dress, and again when she saw her reflection. "My God."

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When Tristan arrived at the office, Joan was waiting for him impatiently, twirling a hand through her dark hair. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago," she informed him, jumping up to greet him.

"Did I forget to do something?" Tristan asked.

Joan shook her head. "But you'll never believe it! ABC called and they want to do a one-hour special on your nuptials. Like, interviews now, some video of the wedding, some stuff afterward."

"Why?" Tristan was puzzled.

"Tristan, do you still not get it? Everyone's looking at your marriage to Amelie as some kind of business merger, and no one's sure of the angle. They just know it will be huge."

"A business merger? Joan, it's not-"

"I know that," Joan assured. "But accepting this offer, filming this show, that could show the rest of the world. Then everyone would understand."

"I don't want people invading my private life like that, Joan."

Joan sighed. "Just think about it, okay?"

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Rory stood uncertainly outside the sitting room door, which Amelie's designer had taken over early that morning. Amelie had called her down, and Rory was worried.

Had Tristan told Amelie? If he'd decided to just come clean with his fiancée without even warning Rory, well, he certainly wouldn't have to worry about producing offspring, that was for sure.

She knocked lightly on the door.

"Rory, is that you?" she heard Amelie's strained voice from inside. "Come in."

Rory took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The sight that greeted her made her heart stop. Amelie was sitting on a stool in the center of the room, yards of white silk and lace surrounding her, tears streaming down her face.

"Are you okay?" Rory asked tentatively, waiting for the other girl to snap.

Amelie sniffled, pulling herself to her feet. "Yeah." She tugged on the top of her gown, offering Rory a small smile. "What do you think? I think I found the dress."

Rory stared at her friend in shock. The bodice was white silk, encrusted with tiny silver seams and uncut diamonds. It was low-cut but still respectable, and from the bodice trailed white silk and lace, holding a girth of a few feet. It sparkled with diamonds, and Rory had to step herself from laughing as she realized Amelie was standing barefoot.

"Of course, this isn't the actual gown," Kaleigh said quickly, gesturing at Amelie. "The seams still have to be taken in, and the train will be longer than this one's."

"Do you like it?" Amelie asked quietly, raising her tear-stained emerald eyes to meet Rory's cobalt ones.

"It's perfect, Amelie," Rory said honestly, taking in her friend in the lavish wedding gown.

When a single tear slipped down her cheek, Rory wasn't sure if it was for the happiness of her friend or the loss of her own dreams.  
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	27. Closure

Author: Indian Summer

Title: Drain the Glass

Rating: PG-13, for now

Chapter Title: Closure

Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…

Chapter Summary: Tristan confronts Rory about her date. Rory confronts Tristan about everything. Amelie wonders.

Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)  
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Rory was bathed in darkness upon entering the house later that night.

A sole light flicked on across the room, and Rory's heart began to race. Her head whipped toward that corner of the room, only to find Tristan sitting on the couch, his expression grave, and the dim orange light casting eerie shadows on his face.

"Your grandmother called," Tristan said, his tone unnervingly calm in contrast with his intense gaze.

Rory bit her lip. "Oh."

"She said you never made it to dinner. Wanted to know if we'd kept you working too hard. She reminded me that you aren't some common college kid; that you're a Gilmore, and you should be treated as such."

"I'm sorry," Rory flushed. "My grandmother can be kind of... intense."

"Yeah." Tristan nodded. "I've known her for quite a while, actually. Lovely woman, when she wants to be."

"Uh..."

"I figured you wouldn't want her knowing you stood up her dinner for a date. So I told her you got stuck in traffic and tried to call. When you couldn't get through, you called me and asked me to try. But I forgot."

"Thank you." Rory hesitated for a minute before making her way over to the couch and sitting awkwardly at the end.

"You're welcome. How was your date?"

Rory raised an eyebrow. "You want to know?"

Tristan shook his head. "Not really, but I figured I should get used to it."

Blue met blue. In that moment, so many emotions passed through their gazes. Hurt, confusion, pain, anger. None were positive. "It was a relief, actually," Rory started slowly, not breaking the gaze. "You see, I spent the hour before I left helping Amelie with her wedding dress and telling her what a perfect wife she'll be. Telling her she deserves you, that you're not too good for her."

Tristan blinked slowly. "What?"

"Yeah, see, Amelie has this idea in her head that _she_ doesn't deserve _you._ It's funny how life works, isn't it?"

"Rory..." Tristan's voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

"I can't do this to her," Rory murmured, shaking her head. "I know we keep saying that, and one or the other always contradicts it, but..." Rory trailed off, looking at Tristan sadly. "You don't have feelings for me, Tristan. You're just nervous and looking for one last hurrah before you get married, and at the same time, settling some old high school bet."

"Rory, that's not-"

"Look, Tristan," Rory interrupted, standing up quickly. "You win. I can't keep doing this, because it's putting me through hell mentally and emotionally. I can't keep doing this because Amelie's my friend. I can't keep doing this because I think I'm-"

A tear slipped down her cheek and Tristan reached out to brush it off. "Rory..." he whispered, wrapping his hand around the back of her head and puling her to him.

"No," she whimpered as her forehead came to rest against his. "We can't, Tristan."

Tristan sighed, dropping kisses over her wet eyelids. "It was never a score to settle for me, Rory."

"It doesn't matter now."

"I care about you."

"But you care about Amelie more. Just go," Rory responded, her voice hardening as she pulled away.

Tristan stared at her for a minute before nodding. With a sigh, he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Rory to collapse back onto the couch in tears..  
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When Tristan joined her in bed that night, Amelie knew something was off. In all honesty, she'd known for quite a while; it had just been easier to avoid.

After her dress fitting today, she'd wager money that Rory was involved in it somehow, perhaps as Tristan's confidante.

It worried her some. Tristan was usually so open with her; they had no secrets.

Lately, though, Tristan was acting more distant. He shuffled around when they were supposed to be planning their wedding, let her make all the decisions, and even their morning kisses seemed lacking lately.

She knew it was cold feet. She wished there was a way to soothe him, but she could think of none. So instead she snuggled into his arms and kissed along his jaw, telling him the only thing she could think of.

"I love you."

Tristan wrapped her tighter in his arms, and kissed her forehead. Amelie snuggled into his warmth, her head falling to rest on his chest.

"It'll be okay," she soothed, "We'll get through it, and everything will go back to normal."

The words sounded hollow even to her.

As her gaze flickered from Tristan's face to her bare ring finger, Amelie wondered what _normal_ was.

All she knew was it had been such a long time since she'd experienced it, she wouldn't know it if it happened anyway.

As she drifted off to sleep, Amelie made a mental note to ask Rory in the morning if she knew what it was that was upsetting Tristan..  
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And Tristan? He wondered why Rory's words kept echoing in his head, and exactly how they would've ended.

"I can't keep doing this because I think I'm-"

Because I'm sick of it?

Because I'm moving on?

Because I'm falling in love with you?

He wasn't sure if he'd prefer the second or the third option.  
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	28. Even Sunshine Burns Sometimes

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The earth radiated the warmth of the sun, and everything seemed to be given a new life. Fresh grass was sprouting, lush and verdant. The sun's rays enveloped newly bare skin and seemed to smile down at the world; tulips and roses had begun to bloom.

It was ironic, Rory thought, that the first day that felt warm and welcoming was Tristan's wedding day. As she stood outside the church, head tilted up toward the sun, she thought she may have found peace with the idea. If the world accepted it, who was she to disagree?

That was the thing. It had been over two months since that final talk with Tristan, the one that had put the nails in the coffin of that relationship, taken any remaining air supply, and buried it alive.

And that was the problem, really. For every word spoken aloud, for every eye roll and casual joke, there was a look, a touch, a thought, that said otherwise. Coming to terms with your feelings and promising you wouldn't feel them anymore didn't make them go away.

Today was her three-month anniversary with Noel. She tried to focus on that, tried to rid herself of any negativity toward the marriage, tried to be a better person.

And then a limousine pulled up and Tristan stepped out, an arm slung casually around the shoulders of his best man, a smile tweaking the corner of his lips. His eyes locked onto Rory's and ever across the fifty yards, all the tension and hidden feeling seemed to boil to the surface.

Then the moment was over, and Tristan had looked away, and was heading up the church steps.

Rory turned her face up to the sun again, letting her eyelids close as the heat stung at her skin.

Yes, even sunshine burned sometimes.  
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Tristan glanced around the church nervously as they started the bridal march. It was hard to ignore Rory standing so close to him and he cursed the gods that had made Amelie choose Rory to be a bridesmaid.

Rory looked gorgeous, of course. She always did, even that day in March where she'd been sick, laying around in her sweats and a T-shirt.

Tristan winced imperceptibly as he realized where his thoughts were going and turned to the back of the church expectantly. This was the day he'd remember forever, he reminded himself. There was no use in thinking of Rory now.

His breath hitched as Amelie appeared, arm in arm with her father, and he couldn't help but smile when he realized she must've won at least _one_ argument with her designer- the veil was already thrown back.

He gazed at her and realized he'd never been so much in love as he was at this moment. Amelie, with that steady smile and shining eyes already pooling with tears, approaching slowly, a bundle of nerves and excitement.

God, she was beautiful.

Tristan shifted a little as she approached, not completely sure why. He caught Rory's gaze and looked away quickly. It didn't matter, though. She was watching Amelie as well, a small smile playing on her face.

This was it, Tristan realized. This was his last chance to make everything right.  
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"You know, I've never been good with speeches," Tristan murmured as the crowd laughed, "So I figured I'd cheat a little. I looked up some quotes, hoping something would stir a muse that as of yet I haven't found inside myself. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. But I did find a quote. 'Love is like growing --it's hard to feel, sometimes, and even harder to see, but when you look back on it, you realize how far you've come.' I thought it kind of summed up our relationship perfectly."

Tristan took Amelie's hands in his and paused. "It's funny, because I've really only known you for a few years. But in that time, our relationship has grown into something incomparable. When I look into your eyes, I see our past. In your heart I see our future. In your gestures, I see our lives. I want to spend the rest of mine with you, Amelie, and I want to share yours. I want to be there for you, whether it's for the good or the bad, the happy or the sad, the _entirety._ If I were to die tomorrow, Amelie, I'd die happy. I'd die feeling I had missed out, and I'd die wondering what could've been, but I'd die with your love and your touch and your beauty forever engrained in my mind. I'll be there for you, Amelie. I want this more than you can ever imagine."

The priest cleared his throat after a minute and turned to Tristan. "Tristan DuGrey, do you take Amelie Rousseau to be your wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only to her forevermore?"

Tristan swallowed, staring into Amelie's eyes. Rory's face flickered in his mind, but he smiled at Amelie. "I do."  
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The reception was lavish yet fairly low-key, with the exception of the ABC media box in the corner of the ballroom. Rory sat in her chair at the head table uncomfortably as Tristan and Amelie ate, exchanging whispers and laughter.

Tristan would glance over at her occasionally, feeling horrible for putting her in such a position.

"Lets dance," Amelie whispered, standing and tugging on Tristan's arm.

The music selection had been good, but not ace, and Tristan suspected they'd given the wedding planner a bit too much free reign. The song in question was Andy Grigg's "She's More," and Tristan found it a bit ironic that _this_ would be the first song he danced to with his new wife.

But still, he followed her, his eyes lighting on Rory as they made their way out to the dance floor. He enveloped Amelie in his arms and started to sway. He closed his eyes as if hoping it would block out the lyrics.

"I like blue eyes. Hers are green. Not like the woman of my dreams, and her hair's not quite as long as I had planned."

Blue met blue across the dance floor and Tristan shivered at Rory's intense gaze. He felt Amelie burrow into his chest as the song continued, and even though he knew all eyes were on him and Amelie, he couldn't tear his eyes from the blue-eyed girl across the room.

"I love you," Amelie murmured against him, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck as she pulled his head down for a kiss.

Tristan sighed, dropping a light kiss on Amelie's lips, his eyes still on Rory. "I love you, too, Mrs. DuGrey."  
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	29. Blue

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June 30, 2006

It had been a month since the event Rory now referred to as the wedding from hell, and finally, she was able to at least begin letting go of the past. She'd be leaving for a trip to Virginia Beach with Noel in a couple days, just in time for Independence Day, and Noel had promised to teach her to surf.

She figured the best case scenario was she turned out to be a natural and survived the day without a scratch (unlikely) or worst case, she had yet another embarrassing story to tell her kids one day (much more likely).

She'd moved back to the dorms, where both she and Jordan were attending a summer session. Jordan figured that with a baby on the way, she should get all the head start on her education she could, and Rory because... well, she'd skipped a lot of classes over the past year, and if she had any intentions of being a senior come fall...

She'd never forgive herself or Tristan for how much she'd let him screw with her mind, her values, her priorities, this past year. In hindsight, she could see she'd been a moron.

She'd done the other woman thing with Dean, and it had all turned out badly that time, as well. So what had made her think it would turn out better this time?

Honestly, though, she wasn't sure if it could have turned out better. Things were right the way they were. She had Noel, who, although a bit more radical and athletic than her normal type of guy, was honest and understanding and loved her with all his heart.

So she didn't love him. At least not yet.

They had time. She could learn to love him.

...Right?  
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The color of a chlorine-treated pool, of Tristan's eyes, of fate rewriting itself. Amelie Rousseau-DuGrey perched on the side of her porcelain bathtub, holding a box in one hand and its contents in the other. Who would've thought that something that cost $14.99 at a local drugstore could change the rest of her life?

Amelie shivered as she raised the stick, the blue line thin, but clearly there.

Well. They hadn't been expecting this, at least not yet. They'd barely talked about it.

With shaking hands, Amelie picked up the box and scanned the back. '_Over 99 accurate...'_

Well, that left little room for doubt.

Pursing her lips, she dropped the box in the trash and set the stick on the corner of the sink.

She had wanted kids, and she knew Tristan did as well. But all their conversations about children had been purely hypothetical- neither had considered having any in the immediate future.

Oh, yes. This certainly put a damper on their plans.  
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Tristan was ecstatic when he heard the news. After assuring Amelie that it would be alright, that they'd make it work, that really, now was the _perfect_ time to work on that addition they'd been considering for the house anyway, Tristan got in his car.

And drove like a maniac to Jordan's dorm room. He and Jordan may not be as close as they'd been since Jordan learned about his relationship with her roommate, but they were twins, and this was something he needed to tell her.

He ran down the hall until he reached their suite, pounding excitedly on the door. "Coming, coming, coming," he heard from the other side, followed by a few curses.

The door swung open and he found himself face to face with the ultimate buzz kill. "Rory."

Rory raised an eyebrow and took a step back, gesturing for him to come in. "I'll get Jordan," she said, disappearing back into her room as she left him standing in the common room.

Tristan watched her as she walked away, taking in her lithe form. God, she was hot even in pajama bottoms and a tank top.

Tristan shook his head as Jordan entered the room, clearing his mind and refocusing on his good news.

"What's going on?" Jordan asked, arms crossed over her swelling belly.

Tristan tried to picture Amelie like that, but couldn't. He just smiled stupidly at his sister.

"Well?" Jordan questioned, glancing back at Rory's room.

It was then Tristan realized his sister had already chosen a side, and it wasn't his. He frowned. "I just came to tell you that, uh, Amelie found out she was pregnant today. I thought you'd like to know."

Jordan opened her mouth to speak, but there was a creak behind her and she spun around to see Rory standing in the doorway, her expression blank. "Amelie's pregnant?" Rory asked, voice so quiet Tristan had trouble making out the words.

Tristan nodded. "Uh, yeah."

Rory squeezed her eyes shut and after a minute, Jordan cleared her throat. "Rory," she started, her voice sad and quiet, gesturing back toward Rory's room.

Rory shook her head and offered Tristan a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Congratulations. Tell Amelie I'm happy for her."

Tristan gulped. "I will."

But she never heard his words, because the door had already closed, and Jordan was already ushering him out of the common room.

He never heard her quiet sobs, either.  
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Jordan glanced over at her roommate in concern. The girl hadn't moved in the last eight hours, or at least not much. She'd changed into different pajamas before crawling back into the security of her own bed, whimpering. Jordan sighed. "Rory."

Rory turned her head slightly, meeting Jordan's gaze. She mumbled something, but Jordan couldn't understand what she had said.

"What?"

"Don't want to talk." Rory glanced past Jordan, at the wall behind her. Rory had perfected the art of not meeting a person's gaze years ago. She'd managed to make it look like she wasn't avoiding that gaze more recently.

Jordan, of course, knew her too well. "Rory…"

Rory groaned, bringing her eyes down to meet Jordan's worried gaze. "I'm fine, Jordan. Really. I just want to be left alone."

"You missed class," Jordan said, raising an eyebrow. "That's not a Rory Gilmore-ish thing to do."

"How do you know I missed class?" Rory asked.

"You're in my Creative Writing class, Rory. You weren't there. And considering you only sit two seats from me, I don't think I could've overlooked you."

Rory groaned. "Fine. I didn't go." She paused. "Still don't want to talk about it, though."

Jordan shrugged. "Fine. Your loss."

Rory sighed. "Look, I'm just going to forget about it. I'm leaving for Virginia with Noel tomorrow morning, and after that, I'll just... move on. It's time I did anyway, Jordan. Just... don't look at me like that, Jordan. I'm serious."

"Whatever you say, Rory."  
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	30. Returning Home

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July 23, 2010

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"Rory!" Jordan shrieked, running toward her old friend in baggage claim. "I got your email and I wasn't even sure if it was true! I'm so happy you're back."

Rory smiled as Jordan enveloped her in a hug, patting her friend's back good-naturedly. "Yeah, it's been a while."

"So what was it like? Working for her?" Jordan asked, looking around.

Rory cleared her throat and pointed to a little boy about eight feet from Jordan's right. "That what you're looking for?"

"Yeah. Andy, come meet your Aunty Rory."

Rory knelt down to greet the little boy. "How old are you, Andy?"

Jordan rolled her eyes as Andy held up a full hand. "He's four, don't listen to him," Jordan said, ruffling Andy's hair.

"He's adorable, Jordan," Rory said, getting back to her feet.

Jordan smiled. "You're mom said to tell you she's so sorry she had to be out of town and couldn't greet you, but I promised to take care of you until she gets back. Something about a bad shipment of vegetables and... someone with a weird name. Cookie?"

"Sookie," Rory giggled. "She must be freaking out."

"Sounded like that." Jordan shrugged. "So you're going to come back to my house, and tell me all about what it was like working side by side with Christiane Amanpour in the middle of nowhere for over a year!"

Rory laughed. "We weren't in the middle of nowhere, Jordan. We were in eastern Australia most of the time."

Jordan sighed, grasping one of Rory's suitcases as it came around the carousel. "You're still using your college suitcases?" she asked, before shaking her head. "And you're totally missing the point, Rory. You got your dream job. You got to work with your idol!"

Rory smiled, pulling her other suitcase from the carousel as she rolled her eyes at Jordan. "You know, sometimes dreams are supposed to stay just that, Jordan. I wouldn't trade my experiences for anything in the world, but it made me realize something, too."

"What's that?"

"That sometimes, what you think is lacking from your life, is right there in front of you."  
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"Oh my God, you have no idea how much I've missed the deep dished pizza here," Rory admitted as she stuffed a quarter of her slice of pizza into her mouth, talking around the food.

Jordan grimaced. "Could you tell me _after_ you've swallowed? I'm trying to teach Andy manners, not eliminate them."

Rory laughed and swallowed the bite, shaking her head. "Jordan Danvers teaching someone manners?" Rory teased, "I don't believe it."

Jordan smiled, holding up her left hand. "Jordan _Ryan_, Rory."

"Huh. I'll have to meet him."

"Well, he's away right now on business. But you'll have time later, I promise. We got married last September."

"God, it's been so long."

"And you? I think I saw _something_ sparkling on your finger when you were getting off the plane."

Rory blushed. "Oh, it's nothing..."

"Who is he?" Jordan asked, reaching across the table to pull Rory's hand into view. "Holy sh-" She froze, glancing over at Andy. "Schism."

Rory giggled. "Holy _schism?_ Well, at least it makes sense, although it's been a while."

"Evading the topic."

"Um. I met back up with an ex in Australia. He'd taken over his dad's newspaper conglomerate and was personally covering the story there."

"Huh. Newspaper conglomerate?" Jordan's mouth fell open. "Are you talking about _Logan Huntzberger?"_

Rory nodded. "Yeah, we're engaged. Kind of."

"I think the rock would disagree with the kind of," Jordan muttered, still admiring Rory's diamond. "That's got to be worth more than my house."

Rory shrugged. "It's not that formal, you know. It was kind of a spur of the moment proposal, more to piss off his dad than anything else."

"Sounds like Logan."

"Yeah."

"And you're happy? You're in love with him."

It was shrug city, apparently. Rory shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. Or at least he makes me happy, so... it's not like I have lots of options, you know?"

Jordan frowned. "Yeah..."  
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"Oh, Rory, I should probably warn you..." Jordan started but trailed off as they approached her front door.

Rory frowned. "What is it?" she asked, admiring Jordan's house. It wasn't anything like the Ashford mansion, and it wasn't imposing, but it was Jordan's. It was nice to see her friend had been able to thrive without her family's support.

"Well, uh, my brother was kind of, you know, uh-"

Jordan didn't get any further though, as the front door swung open and Andy cried out, "Uncle Tristan!" as he charged at the blonde man.

Suddenly Rory's feet seemed to forget how to work. She stood rooted in place, one foot slightly in front of the other, mouth agape and pupils dilated.

It was almost funny. Rory had thought after the stories they'd covered about the Republican uprisings in Australia, and the civil war torn cities they'd entered, she'd become immune to adrenaline surges.

But now, as all the muscles in her body tensed and her blood started racing, she wanted to flee. It was funny, really, how seeing a man you'd once thought you loved could be scarier than trolling a war zone or being escorted at gunpoint through the streets of the once-safe Brisbane.

Shit.  
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	31. Explanations

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AN: Before the Aussies all freak out, the Australian rebellion thing is an inside joke between my Sydneysider housemate and I. Unlikely to happen (verrrrry much so) so don't worry.  
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Over the past few years, Jordan had apparently developed some common sense. And Rory recognized that at the top of her college roommate's list was keeping herself and Tristan away from each other.

"Uh, Tristan, would you take Andy for a walk while I help Rory settle in?"

Tristan opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by his twin's glare. "Fine," he mumbled, taking Andy's hand in his and heading toward the road.

Rory watched Tristan and Andy in shock until they disappeared from view before turning to Jordan. "Why do I feel like I stepped into an intervention?"

Jordan laughed. "Not at all," she murmured, "Not at all."

Rory thought back to a few minutes previous, when Tristan had appeared in the doorway. She'd been too surprised to take it in then- the sallow skin, unshaven, almost gaunt face, and the unwashed hair. "Wait, am I in _his_ intervention?" Her hand flew to her mouth as her brain worked overtime. "Wait! Is he sick?"

Jordan gazed down the road for a minute before shaking her head. "No. At least not physically."

"Huh?"

Jordan bit her lip before gesturing for Rory to enter the house. She busied herself for a few minutes by pouring Rory a cup of coffee and tidying up the kitchen before broaching the subject again. "Amelie left him," she said quietly. "Right after Christmas."

"I didn't know."

Jordan nodded. "I know. You don't really know much, Rory. You stopped communicating with everyone a couple years ago."

"I'm sorry. It was too hard, and talking to you just reminded me of him."

"I understand; you don't need to apologize." Jordan sighed. "Tris has been living with me since then. It was all a really quick downward spiral after- after..." She trailed off.

Rory frowned. "What?"

Jordan's jaw tensed and she shook her head. "Amelie got pregnant again about a year and a half ago. She miscarried early into the pregnancy. She was okay, but they never really recovered, you know?"

"Oh my God, I should've called-"

"You didn't know, Rory," Jordan soothed, setting a hand on Rory's forearm. "Anyway, things went downhill pretty quickly after that, and Max- do you remember Max? Allison's boyfriend? Anyway, Max helped Amelie through it, and this is where I get confused." Jordan shook her head. "You'll have to ask Tristan the rest, I guess."

"What- where's Jenny?" Rory asked; she'd met Tristan and Amelie's daughter when she was just a baby.

"She's with Amelie and she's three and a half . Anyway, Amelie got remarried- to Max." Jordan shook her head, an ironic smile playing on her face. "It's wild, isn't it?"

"Sad."

Jordan sobered. "Yeah."  
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Tristan wasn't sure what he thought of Rory's reintroduction into his life. Jordan had told him Rory was returning to Connecticut, but for some reason, it hadn't hit home. Perhaps that was because he wasn't expecting her sister to _bring_ her home.

_'Like good old times,'_ he thought sardonically as he led Andy back into the house.

Rory and Jordan were sitting in the kitchen, which made them entirely unavoidable. Tristan passed through the room with his head down, resorting to the childish ideal 'if I can't see you, you can't see me.'

How had he been reduced to this?

He would've laughed if he wasn't so pathetic. You could take your pick, really.

There was Robbie's death. Amelie turning to Max. Or maybe you could skip right to Amelie's tearful proclamation that maybe they couldn't survive this, maybe they needed a divorce. Or, hell, throw in his grandfather's rage at his self-defeating attitude and it's impact on the company. The subsequent loss of his job. Losing custody of Jenny.

Take. Your. Freaking. Pick.

He was twenty-six years old, a divorced father who only got to see his daughter on weekends, unemployed, and working to get his _bachelor's._ He was a fucking failure, that's what he was.

He heard footsteps behind him and was barely able to withhold a groan. He knew he'd have to face her at some point, anyway.

"Hey."

Her voice was softer than he'd expected, but not nearly as pitying.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

He just shrugged. _Like he had a choice?  
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_

"It's been a while since we've done this," Rory murmured, sitting cross-legged on her bed across from Tristan.

"Yeah, I think that was our problem," Tristan acknowledged quietly. "Me, you. In the same room together."

Rory let out a small laugh. "That's not what I meant."

Tristan shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to meet Rory's gaze. It felt too familiar; it reminded him too much of the past. "Look, can we not do this? I've heard too many apologies, and quite frankly, they just piss me off."

Rory raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I was going to say, Tristan."

"Uh-huh." Tristan mirrored her expression.

Rory rolled her eyes and pulled her legs closer to her body. "Fine. I was going to apologize. It sucks, Tristan, and I can't imagine how it feels."

"You aren't seriously setting this up for a 'but,' are you?" Tristan asked, but found himself smirking anyway.

Rory sighed. "Jordan told me you've been like this for almost a year, Tristan. And you've been a walking zombie for longer."

"So? I think I'm allowed to grieve for my son and my marriage and my job."

"When the hell did you turn into a drama queen?" Rory muttered, before looking away. "Sorry. I... Actually, I did kind of mean it. You're allowed to grieve, Tristan. You lost more than that- you lost your old _life._ And I'm thinking that's hard to deal with."

"No shit, Sherlock."

He'd never spoken to her like this, and he could tell it caught her off guard. Rory bit her lip. "You need to start living again, Tristan."

"If the next words out of your mouth are 'live for Robbie,' I won't be responsible for what I do to-"

"They aren't," she interrupted quickly, shaking her head. "I'm not stupid enough to believe that's possible. You have to live for _you_. And Jordan, because it's not fair to her."

"When did you grow a backbone?" Tristan asked with all the ferocity he could muster, but still a smile twitched at the corner of his lips, the first in a long time.

Rory pretended to ponder the question. "Being escorted at gunpoint through Brisbane. Did you see the documentary?"  
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She called Logan later that night. He wasn't surprised, really. She'd talked about Tristan in her sleep, and when he'd finally had the sense to Google the man, he realized how much he looked like him.

He should've been upset, but he was too happy for her. She was different from the Rory Gilmore he'd known in college, and on some level, he'd always known it wouldn't work.

He'd known there was someone else in her heart, and there was no way to compete with a ghost.

So instead, he had given her his best wishes and told her to keep the ring or auction it off for charity or _something._ He'd told her it was hers, that is was a gift, and she could do with it what she liked.

And then he had contacted the daughter of his dad's old business partner and told her it was all settled. He'd told her that it had all worked out just according to plan, and soon, Rory and Tristan would be happy and together.

And he could almost see Amelie's smile through the phone line.  
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	32. Summer Rain

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Wow, I can't believe this story is actually coming to an end. It's been an amazing two years, guys, and I feel blessed to have come into contact with so many amazing people through this story. You know how when you upload a story, you always find a few reviewers who make your day, follow through with your story, put up with delays and moodswings and all that, and it's because of them you continue writing when you don't want to, or you feel renewed and strong enough to take the story somewhere you weren't originally planning? I was lucky enough to find about thirty of those reviewers. And while I'm sure I didn't list all of you, I want to give a big thanks to Joan (bibleboymary4ever), Helen (Helen5), Loz (ever wondering), Tinkswings (Merel), Jessica S, Jamie (Mrs. Witter), Marissa (AvidTVfan), Elaida, Jayta, Angeleyez, miclol, genevra, SweetThing2, Deeta, Siaram, Rory DuGray, Season 4.5, Green Eve, Chevie Jane, klm111a, LizDarcy1, Surya, Ms. Vaughn, Diana Troy, aye davanita, frackandbonechick, ElizabethV, Captain Oblivious, goddessofthenite, shefa, flossie1, kiki, and Druzilla, all of whom took this wild ride with me, pushed me to continue, and allowed me to think.

It feels weird to just upload the last chapter and be done with it. Wow. Anyway, I'd like to thank my newest beta, Merel. She really saved this story from complete ruin when Joan disappeared.

There are a few alternate endings and spinoff ideas that have been playing in my head, as well as a sequel. We'll see; I guess.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the conclusion.  
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Jordan was stunned by the transformation in Tristan. In less than a week, he was conversing almost animatedly with everyone in the house, and she could've sworn she'd caught him flirting with Rory a couple times.

It was like he was living again. It came quicker than expected, and it felt like something out of some B-movie, but Jordan didn't want to think it over too deeply. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

So she was surprised, but not very much, when Tristan told her casually over Sunny Delight and pancakes that he was going to call Amelie and see if Jenny could spend the rest of her summer vacation with him.

Jordan didn't want to get his hopes up, but she'd talked to Amelie about the custody arrangement recently, and she was sure Amelie would say yes. There were no hard feelings between the ex-spouses- just a lot of pain and history. Amelie had admitted herself that if she weren't living in New York, she would've only requested shared custody.

But Jordan just smiled and wished her twin good luck, with a wink at Rory.

And Rory, of course, had misinterpreted that wink as some kind of teasing and blushed. She hadn't made eye contact with Tristan for the rest of breakfast, and it had been enough to confirm Jordan's suspicions.

There was still _something_ there.  
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Amelie and Max drove Jenny down to Hartford that same weekend. With a kiss on the cheek for both their daughter and Tristan as well as some carefully prepared instructions for Jenny's care and a few death threats if anything happened to her daughter, Amelie was gone.

Jordan hadn't seen Tristan as happy as he was now in a long time, with Jenny in his arms and Rory by his side. So she'd slipped from the house with Andy and the feeble excuse that they needed more groceries, even though the fridge was almost completely stocked.

And that was how Tristan and Rory ended up sitting on the lawn, watching as Jenny played with a ball, on the first day of August.

They sat in silence for a while, Tristan stealing occasional glances at Rory's long, shapely legs, tan from the Australian sun. Leave it to Rory to stay pale through Connecticut summers, but tan in Australian winters.

And he'd study her profile. Her hair was shorter now than it had been the last time he'd seen her, her cheeks flushed, and her body was more womanly. His eyes roamed her body and he wondered what it would be like to touch her.

He thought it would feel similar to kissing an angel, and the thought scared him. He'd defile her perfection. Anyway, there was no way the dream could be as good as the reality anyway, right?  
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Tristan was anything but subtle. Rory tried not to laugh as she felt his eyes on her again, instead focusing her attention on Jenny. Three and a half years old, and Rory could already see both her parents' features in the little girl. She had Amelie's eyes, an emerald shimmering with the goodwill only a child (or Amelie) could possess, but Tristan's blonde locks, only a shade or two darker than her father's.

And she had Amelie's upbeat, unassuming personality. Rory smiled at the thought, almost shocked by how well it seemed everything could work out.

She was shocked by how easily she seemed to sink into this new role. As exciting as the past few years had been, following in the footsteps of the woman she'd idolized her entire childhood, making a name for herself, fulfilling her dreams- there was something fulfilling about sitting under the summer sun with the man she'd never truly gotten over, communicating without words and watching his daughter.

It scared her, at first, though. When she'd seen Tristan on the doorsteps over a week ago and her heart had _skipped_ a beat- really, she thought that only happened in movies- she'd known she was in trouble.

How strange, that after four years, one simple look and a few words could bring back all those feelings she thought were safely bottled up and stored away.

But she knew it wasn't the same. She knew there weren't any obstacles this time around, and all that was stopping her was her pride and her mind.

What place did a mind have in matters of the heart?  
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The sun was setting when Rory made the first move. Jordan had taken Jenny inside for dinner at the start of a light summer rain, casting a secretive smile over her shoulder at Rory. Rory had blushed, realizing just how well her friend knew her.

They had sat in a companionable silence for a few more minutes, neither seeming to notice the rain. Tristan would occasionally shift position and look at her more openly than he had previously.

And what was she waiting for? He'd always made the first move before, had ever since they were in high school.

With a small smile she met his gaze, and slipped her hand over his paler one, taking a moment to be startled by the contrast.

"Sometimes the sunshine burns," she whispered as she leaned toward him, "But rain never does."

The kiss was deep and sweet, lacking the passion of their previous kisses. The difference, of course, was that they had all the time in the world now.

For the moment, though, they were content with a single kiss in the summer rain, hands, hearts and souls intertwined, finally at the same place in their lives at the same time, and ready to let go of their pasts.  
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And somewhere hundreds of miles away, an emerald-eyed beauty set down a telephone and considered the quote she'd found the day before filing for divorce.

Immature love says "I love you because I need you". Mature love says "I need you because I love you".

And she smiled.

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Finis


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